


The Games We Lost

by jypzrose



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Don't worry, F/M, Rye will be respectful, but he is a guy, rated for underage shenanigans, this idea just won't go away. Prim needs a Mellark too.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-10-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:40:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1701809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jypzrose/pseuds/jypzrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Primrose Everdeen watched her sister and her love Peeta Mellark die in the 74th Hunger Games.  In the aftermath, she and Rye Mellark, the brother who didn’t volunteer, grow closer in their grief.  Just as Prim is starting to understand her feelings for the middle Mellark brother, Snow pays a visit.  The Star crossed lovers of District 12 had sparked a rebellion.  Any furher contact between the Mellark and Everdeen’s family’s will only make that spark ignite.  If Prim doesn’t stay away from Rye and instead spend time with Rory Hawthorne-who has a secret of his own- all of their families could suffer.  But what about the upcoming Quell?   And what did she really see in the arena her sister found love in?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

 

# Prologue

_The 74 th Hunger Games_

_“I VOLUNTEER!”_

 

Those words had Primrose Everdeen bolting awake at least once a night since she’d heard them at the Reaping.  It had been her name, not her sisters that had been called.  It should have been _her_ in that arena, fighting for her life.  Not Katniss, never Katniss.

 

But as soon as Effie Trinket, the colorful, garish escort from the Capital, had called her name Prim knew.  She’d never step foot in the arena. 

 

Prim had screamed, denied and clawed, trying to make her sister take it back.  But instead, Gale Hawthorne, her sister’s best friend had picked her up and carried her away to her mother.  She’d looked at her sister through tear filled eyes, knowing somehow that she was looking at her sister for the last time.  District 12 hadn’t had a victor in 25 years.  There was no reason to think, even though her sister wasn’t the usual tribute from their poor district, that she would be able to make it out.

 

When Effie had presented Katniss to the audience, there hadn’t been a sound.  Then one person, then another, then another raised a three fingered salute to the volunteer.  It was a symbol of respect, of goodbye.  It made Prim cry harder.

 

“ _Now for the boys!”_

Peeta Mellark’s name was called.  And she saw Katniss’ face fall, for an instant, but she saw it.  The baker’s youngest son made his way to the stage, shock that his name had been called when his name couldn’t have been in there more than five times.  But Prim’s had only been in there two.  The odds weren’t in either of their favor that day.

 

Prim had looked away then, over to where the seventeen year olds were penned and saw the other Mellark boy of reaping age.  She thought his name was Rye.  And she saw the pain and guilt on his face.  She knew he wouldn’t be volunteering for Peeta.  No one would blame him. 

 

But she knew he would blame himself when Peeta died.  Just as Prim was already blaming herself for Katniss.

 

Once the games started, the duo from District 12 made quite an impression.  At the tribute parade, Prim could feel her heart swell when she saw them.  They were on fire, literally, their hands clasped together showing a united front.  They were smiling and blowing kisses to the crowd.  And Peeta was staring at her sister like he couldn’t believe she was real.

 

That was when Prim realized what love looked like.

 

So she wasn’t surprised at all when during the tribute interviews, Peeta had admitted that he loved Katniss.  Even if it was obvious Katniss hadn’t had a clue.

 

From the second the games started, Prim lived with her heart in her throat.  She had foolishly made Katniss promise that she would come home, knowing it was a promise her sister probably wouldn’t be able to keep. But as each day passed and her sister made it, finding water, food and sleeping in the trees, Prim thought that _maybe_ Katniss could do it.

 

When Peeta had joined with the careers, Prim hadn’t lost faith in him.  Unlike the others in the district, who had rallied around them when he’d declared his love, they turned on him once he took up with Cato and the others.  Not Prim.  She had a feeling that there was more to it than first glance.

 

She’d been thrilled when her faith in him had been validated.  There was no way the boy that slipped her cookies when no one was looking, or who’d stared so blatantly at his sister with open adoration would turn on her like that.  And when he’d fought Cato, getting a nasty slice in his leg for his efforts after Katniss had dropped the tracker jackers on them, she knew she was right.

 

She’d cried with her sister when Katniss’ little ally, Rue had been killed by Marvel.  Katniss had sung her to sleep, surrounding her with wildflowers and giving her the same salute District 12 had given her.  It was beautiful, heartbreaking and _dangerous._   She remembered thinking how much danger Katniss was in now, for showing that little bit of compassion.  Which was strange considering where the older girl was. 

 

The rule change had thrown everyone.  _Two victors?_   Prim didn’t dare to hope.  Not when the Capital was so good at taking hope away.

 

Katniss found Peeta in the river, covered in mud and blood.  She watched as her sister nursed him.  She watched as her sister fell in love with the Baker’s son.  She watched as Peeta told her the story of how he’d fallen in love with her.  It was so sweet, so sad.  Prim couldn’t feel good about it.  Not when there was so much against them.

 

Blood poisoning.  Peeta was going to die if he didn’t get medicine, and Haymitch Abernathy hadn’t sent them any.   For every kiss and caress he would send food.  But it was after they’d made love, their young bodies hidden by the sleeping bag, their soft sighs and cries amplified so the Capital could get its fill of their tragic love story that the announcement was made.

 

A feast was planned.  Where something each tribute needed would be made available.  The medicine Peeta needed for his leg. 

 

He’d forbidden her to go.  Haymitch had sent her one last parachute.  Sleep syrup.  It was mixed with berries and kisses and he drifted away, the look of betrayal in his blue eyes even as Katniss whispered, “I love you.”

 

She’d gotten the pack with his medicine.  Almost gotten killed by Clove, district 2’s female tribute.  Thresh, Rue’s partner tribute had saved her.  For Rue.  She was bleeding from her head as she worked her way back to Peeta.

 

That was when the cannon sounded.  Prim watched as panic seized her sister, who crashed through the woods, her usual stealthy movements lost in her fear.

 

When Katniss got back to the cave, it was empty.  She called and screamed, begging for Peeta to come back. But he never did.  That’s when Prim saw her sister give up.

 

The gamemakers didn’t let her wallow long.  Another cannon had sounded as Katniss sobbed, the wretched sounds of her grief making Prim’s heart break with her.

 

“I’m so sorry, Katniss.” Prim whispered, her fingers playing over the screen of the TV as she tried to comfort the girl from so far away.

 

Mutts.  Huge, growling wolves with strangely human eyes chased her from the river to the cornucopia.  Cato was there first, scrambling up the slick sides of the structure.  Katniss launched herself up just as a mutt with clear blue eyes nipped at her heels.  But at the top, she found herself face to face with Cato, his blood streaked face feral and scared.  They were both tired and hurting and just…done.

 

Prim screamed when Katniss raised her bow and reached for an arrow, only to find the quiver empty.

 

Before Cato struck the killing blow, Katniss gasped, “I’m sorry, Prim.”  Then Cato swung, the camera never leaving his face as he became the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games.

 

Prim hadn’t needed the apology.  Katniss wouldn’t have been able to live without Peeta.  Prim would survive without Katniss.  Her sister had taken her place in the games, which was a debt that Prim could never repay.  Now at least, Katniss and Peeta could be together forever.

 

But, even as she thought that, she took off from her Seam house, the boom of the final cannon echoing in her head.  Her mother didn’t try to stop her. She was too shocked herself to help her youngest daughter.  Katniss would be mad if her mother went away again, like she did after their father was killed.  But that was the last thing on Prim’s mind at that moment.

 

She ran, ignoring the shouts from the Hawthorne family, the sympathetic stares of the other residents of the Seam.  She ran until her tears blinded her and her sobs stole her breath.  She collapsed to the ground, unaware of where she was and her knees and hands were stinging from her fall.  She curled up, her misery breaking her apart.

 

By the time she calmed, Prim didn’t know how much time had passed.  To her it felt like hours, but by the position of the moon it couldn’t have been more than a half of one.  She slowly came to herself, realizing that she was in the meadow, the smell of wildflowers and green growth embracing her.  She wondered vaguely if the mandatory viewing was over now that a victor had been declared. 

 

This thought had fresh hot tears leaking from her swollen eyes.  She wanted to curl up into a ball and let her grief take her away.  But she knew that she couldn’t.  Maybe just for a little while at least.

 

“Who’s there?”  A gruff voice called.  Prim felt her heart jump into her throat as fear nearly took her breath.  Her first thought was _Peacekeepers._   But then she heard a ragged sob and she knew that it wasn’t the lawmen.

 

With little energy, Prim pushed herself up and looked in the direction the voice came in.  She could just make out the kneeling figure of a man, his head dropped into his hands.  At the sound of her movements he turned to look at her.

 

“Primrose Everdeen?”  Prim squinted in the moonlight, trying to make out his features in the dimness.  She sucked in a breath when her mind told her _Peeta._   Then she realized that she was looking at the guilt and grief ravaged face of Rye Mellark. 

 

“Hello, Rye.”  She managed, her throat raw with her own sobs. 

 

“I should have volunteered. I should have gone.”  Rye said the words in a rush, his face crumpling once more.  She didn’t know how she managed, but she pushed to her feet and stumbled over to him.  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, taking in the smell of clean cloths and bread and wept with him.

 

“Don’t say that.  Peeta wouldn’t have wanted that.  I didn’t.” she admitted, clutching him tighter.  Guilt had her collapsing against him.  She should be dead.  Not Katniss. It was her name called.  It had been her time.  Not her sister.  Not Katniss. She felt him shift, felt him close her in the heat of his embrace and she felt some of her pain ease. 

 

“I’m so sorry, Primrose.  I’m so sorry.”  She didn’t know what he was apologizing for.  It occurred to her, that if he had volunteered and Katniss hadn’t, she and Peeta could be here, together and whole.  But it did no good to think like that.

 

“It’ll be ok, Rye.  It has to be.”  She whispered, burying her face in his chest, letting her tears flow free once more.

 

“I’ll take care of you.  Don’t worry.”  He gasped, his tears dripping onto her hair.  She didn’t care. 

 

“I’ll take care of you too, Rye.” She promised, holding him closer. He nearly crushed her against his chest as they cried, the moon the only witness to their grief.


	2. Chapter 1

##  _Nightmares_

With a choked scream, Rye Mellark came awake.  He gasped for air, his blond hair sweaty and plastered against his forehead, his heart was threatening to beat right out of his chest.

 

“Rye?  You ok?”  His brother Graham, called from across the room.  The brothers still shared a room.  At least until Graham married his girlfriend after Rye’s final reaping the following year.  Then his parents would officially turn the bakery over to the twenty one year old and retire.  They’d already put in their application for housing.  Rye would have to figure out what he was going to do and soon.

 

“Yeah.”  He answered once he found his voice.  His tone told Graham not to push.  He got out of bed, ignoring the shakiness of his knees and headed towards the bathroom.  Once inside, Rye locked the door and turned on the shower then stripped out of his sweaty nightclothes.  It wasn’t until he was under the thin, tepid spray that he let the memory of the nightmare come back.

 

It started at the Reaping.  Always at the Reaping.  Rye relived Peeta’s name getting called and walking to his death over and over.  And he wouldn’t volunteer, even in his dream.  His brother always cast hard, accusing eyes at him.  Even Katniss sneered at him.  It always ended with Peeta turning into the wolf mutt from the games, its blue eyes filled with hatred as it ripped Rye’s throat out.

 

“Fuck.”  Rye wanted to punch something, _anything_ , to push the overwhelming urge to cry away.  It had been almost six months since the games and the guilt over his failure as a brother hadn’t lessened and he didn’t think it ever would.

 

“Rye Mellark! Hurry up!”  His mother screech jerked him back to the present.

 

_“All right!_ ”  He yelled back, not caring that he sounded angry.  Why should she be the only one allowed to be in a bad mood?  He washed up quickly, gritting his teeth as the water turned icy.

 

Ten minutes later he was down in the bakery, his dark blond hair still damp and curling around the collar of his t-shirt.

 

“Morning son,” His father said as Rye took his place at the prep table.  He could hear Graham moving around the front of the store, getting the bakery ready to open. 

 

“Mornin’.”  They worked in silence, their routine ingrained in all of them.  Each Mellark boy had worked in the bakery since they were old enough to walk.  The work was mindless, repetitive.  Rye’s mind wandered while he kneaded loaf after loaf.  Thankfully, he somehow managed not to dwell on the games.  His father, never a talkative man to begin with, withdrew even more when Peeta died.  And no one seemed to care that Rye woke up screaming six nights out of seven.  Or if they did, no one said anything.

 

So as he worked next to his father, Rye forced his thoughts to school. He was in his last year and after Graham got married he’d have to decide if he wanted to go into the mines or find some merchant girl to marry.  Neither really sounded good to him.  He knew his mother would push for the merchant girl.  The idea of _her_ son doing anything as low as working in the mines just wouldn’t do.

 

With a sigh, he pushed those happy thoughts out of his head and thought about the wrestling tournament coming up.  He’d won last year.  Over Peeta.

 

Finally, he let his mind go to the one bright spot in his wretched existence.  Primrose Everdeen.

 

Since they’d stumbled upon each other in the meadow all those months ago, she often visited the bakery.  He took to walking her and her friend Rory to and from school, much to Rory’s brother Gale’s disgust.  He couldn’t help enjoying annoying Peeta’s rival for Katniss, even though they were both gone. 

 

Even grieving, Prim was a ray of sunshine.  She saw the happiness their siblings had found in those few days they’d had in the arena and was thankful for it.  She had her own guilt that she struggled with, he knew.  He was probably the _only_ one who understood.  But she was much better at hiding it.  She always had a bright smile for him, a comforting hand on the arm or a kind word.  She had become the best part of his day.

 

“Better get ready for school, Rye.”  This was what most of his conversations consisted of with his father now.  Good morning, get ready for school and good night.  He wondered if things would ever get better or if it would always be this way.

 

“All right, Pop.”  Rye put the rack of bread he’d been working on in the proof box, took off his apron and hung it up on the peg on the wall then ran upstairs to the apartment.

 

He nodded at his mother, who was sitting at the dining table drinking her coffee.  She would head downstairs soon to help Graham and his father open.

 

Madeline’s eyes flicked to her middle son and away, but not quick enough for him to miss the sadness in her blue eyes.  Peeta being gone had been hard on all of them, even her, who never really seemed to like her youngest son all that much.  Maybe it was hard for a parent to lose a child, no matter what.

 

Rye went to his room to grab his pack.  He made sure not to look at the neatly made third bed in the room he shared with Graham.  The one that sat next to the tiny desk covered in random drawings and unfinished homework.

 

No one had touched any of Peeta’s things since the Reaping.  Rye didn’t expect anyone would anytime soon, either.

 

“Bye, mother.”  Rye said as he walked back by her.

 

“Have a good day at school.”  She told him, her voice listless.

 

“Yeah.  Thanks.”  He called back.  Madeline had never been a very soft woman.  She yelled, cuffed ears, insulted.  But since…she’d been trying to more of a mother.   Or at least less of a bad one.

 

Rye grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on as he walked out the back entrance of the bakery.  He called goodbye to his brother and father then headed in the direction of the Seam.

 

“Hold up, Rye!”  Rye paused at the ever-cheery voice of Delly Cartwright, the shoemaker’s daughter.  She hurried down the road with Madge Undersee, the mayor’s daughter next to her.  He waited for them to catch up before he started walking again.

 

“Morning,” he said as the two blonds fell into step with him.

 

A few months ago, the sight of three Merchant children walking into the Seam would have been met by stares and whispers and open hostility.  But, these three, the friends and brother of the last pair of tributes were looked upon with sympathy.  Miners waved to them as they left for work, the mothers left behind offered smiles.

 

Something about the Star Crossed Lovers had sparked something in District 12.  Something close to hope.  A feeling that was in short supply in 12.

 

Rye listened as the girls talked about not much of anything.  He tuned out when Madge mentioned the preparations for the upcoming Harvest festival, which was the first stop on the Victory Tour.  He didn’t want to think about it, but of course it was all he _could_ think about.  They were replaying the Games on TV, the final interviews and ‘highlights’ of the star crossed lovers, which blissfully wasn’t required viewing.  But he knew once the tour started, the recaps of the District ceremonies would be.

 

Unfortunately, the bakery would be required to provide all the bread and sweets for the party.  Rye knew they’d already received the extra supplies they’d need.  His mother had already carefully inventoried them and stored them neatly in the basement.  And anything that hadn’t been used for the Festival would be shipped back to the Capital. 

 

“Primrose!  Rory! Let’s go!”  Rye stopped between the Everdeen and Hawthorne houses, calling out to the pair.  Rory emerged first, his tall, lanky frame dressed in what must have been Gale’s cast offs.  Pants frayed at the cuffs and knees.  Rye dreaded to think what they’d look like when those pants made it to Vick.  He knew by the time Graham’s clothes made it down to Peeta they had barely been held together by a string and a prayer.

 

“Hey,” Rory bounded down the steps of his house after pressing a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

 

“Morning Mrs. Hawthorne.”  The three blondes called.  Hazelle Hawthorne smiled and waved.

 

Rye trudged up the steps to the Everdeen home and knocked when Prim didn’t come out.  Several seconds passed before Ginger Everdeen opened the door. 

 

“Good morning Rye.  Prim’s running a little late this morning.”  She met his gaze, the sad look in them letting him know Prim must have had a bad night.  Rye frowned and looked over Mrs. Everdeen’s shoulder.  He saw Prim sitting on the couch, her blond hair falling in twin braids over her shoulders, her eyes meeting his full of misery.

 

“Go on ahead.  We’ll be along in a minute.”  Rye called to the others.  He and Rory shared a knowing look before the dark haired boy started to walk with Delly and Madge.

 

“You shouldn’t be late, too, Rye.”  Ginger told him.  He gave her a tight smile and stepped inside when she opened the door wider.

 

“We won’t be late, right Prim?”  Rye dropped his pack by the door and moved through the small room to kneel in front of her.  Prim reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him too her.  Rye held her close, the lavender scent of the soap she used filling his senses.  “Bad dream?”

 

Prim nodded.  “The Reaping.” She gasped.  Of course it was.  It was always the Reaping.

 

“I’m sorry, Prim.”  He leaned back and used his thumb to brush away a few stray tears that clung to her lashes.

 

Prim managed a smile and nodded.  “You too.”  It wasn’t a question.  She ran the tip of her finger under his eyes and he knew she was tracing the dark circles.  He ignored the little thrill of pleasure he felt with her touch and shrugged a shoulder.

 

“Come on, beautiful.  Let’s get to school.”  Rye stood and held out a hand.  Prim took it and let him pull her to her feet.  Since that night in the meadow, Prim had shot up a couple of inches.  Now they were practically eye-to-eye since none of the Mellark boys were overly tall.  What they lacked in height they made up for in strength.

 

She’d also stared to fill out in other ways that Rye was desperately trying _not_ to notice.  He’d made sure they had bread and Gale made sure they had meat.  He knew she used the goats for milk and made cheese to trade for the things they needed.  They were eating well, which in turn had Prim developing curves.  Rye was even thankful that the dresses she usually wore didn’t accentuate her figure at all and she still had the habit of wearing two braids.

 

And God forbid if she ever discovered make up.  Rye didn’t think he’d survive.

 

“By mom.”  Prim bussed a kiss on her mothers worried cheek and picked up her bag and coat.

 

“Bye Mrs. E.”  Rye gave her a smile even though Ginger was giving him a look like she could see his deepest secrets.  He was truly thankful she couldn’t.  Otherwise she’d never let him near her daughter again.

 

“Bye kids.”  She gave them a wan smile as they walked out.

 

“How’s your mother doing?”  Rye asked quietly.  They had to rush now to make it to school on time.

 

“She’s,” Prim paused as if searching for the right word.  “Here.  She was a little touch and go at first. But nothing like after my father died.”

 

Rye nodded, satisfied with her answer.  He knew from Peeta, how the Everdeen’s had almost starved to death after the mine accident.  He found out from Prim that it was because her mother had shut down, fallen into a depression so deep she couldn’t care for herself much less her two girls.  Katniss had to assume head of house at eleven years old.  Prim was just nine at the time.

 

“Thanks for this morning.”  Prim said as they climbed the steps to the school.  She brushed a kiss to his cheek and smiled.  The action had pleasure spiraling from the point of contact to every nerve, waking him up in ways he didn’t think he deserved. 

 

“Hey, it’s what we do.”  Rye grinned at her and winked, both actions a shadow of the Rye he used to be.  He used to be the jokester of the three, the proverbial middle child looking for attention.  Until the one day he’d wished he’d never been born. 

* * *

“There’s a dance coming up.  Are you going?”  Rosemarie Simpson, the florist’s daughter, asked the lunch table in general as she sat down.  Rye sat at the end of the table, absently eating an apple and wondering where Prim was and if she’d brought enough for lunch.  He wasn’t really paying attention to any of the conversations going on around him.

 

“Rye?”  Rosemarie placed a hand on his arm as she sat down next to him.  Her attention was so focused on the handsome blonde boy she missed the look Madge and Delly shared.  Delly rolled her eyes as Rosemarie sidled up to an oblivious Rye.

 

“What?”  Rye brought his attention back to Rosemarie enough to smile at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes.  Rosemarie was in Madge and Delly’s year, one year away from their final Reaping. And anyone could see that she had her eyes on the baker’s son.

 

“The dance.  Are you going?”  She asked, her voice softening.  Rosemarie was slender, tall with wavy light brown hair and caramel colored doe eyes.  She’d master the art of make up and clothes at a young age and she didn’t mind accenting her attributes.  And right now her attributes were pressed up against Rye’s arm.

 

“Oh, a dance?  Probably.”  Anything as a distraction was good.  “When is it?”

 

“Next Friday.”  Rosemarie said as if he should have known.  “Are you,” she leaned closer and ran a finger down his arm.  Madge watched, as Rye finally seemed to realize what Rosemarie was doing.  His smile dimmed and he pulled back from her.  “Are you taking anybody?”

 

“Think we’ll probably just go as a group.”  Delly chimed in when she realized just how uncomfortable Rye was getting.  He’d changed so much over the last six months from the boy she’d grown up with.  Gone was the boy who would tease her mercilessly and torment she and his brother on a regular basis.  His temper was almost as legendary as his mothers.  Before, he would have either shut Rosemarie down or encouraged and made a trip with her to the slagheap.  Not now.  “Don’t you think, Madge? Rye?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.”  Madge agreed.  Rye nodded and managed an apologetic smile for the now very annoyed looking girl.

 

“What, you two can’t find a date?  I’m sure I have a couple of friends that wouldn’t mind a pity date.”

 

“Bitch.”  Delly spat.  Usually bubbly and cheerful, the word would have never slipped from her lips.  The Reaping had changed all of them.

 

“When are you lot going to stop clinging to each other like security blankets?  People _die_ in the Hunger Games.  Get over it.”  Rosemarie rolled her eyes and sneered at all of them.

 

“Go away.  Now.”  Rye told her, his eyes turning to ice.  Rosemarie turned up her nose pushed away from him. 

 

“Ugh.  Whatever.  Keep making fools of yourselves.  Oh, and you might want to stop hanging around with that Seam trash.  Just because her sister died whoring for your brother doesn’t mean she belongs with us merchants.  Of course she’s got quite the crush on you. Maybe that’s why you let her stick around.  See if she puts out like her sister.  Which is gross considering she’s just a child.”

 

“Shut your fucking mouth you bitch.”  Madge and Delly both reached for Rye as he moved to stand up.  He had murder in his eyes and neither was sure if he’d actually realize who was standing in front of him.

 

“He said leave, Rosemarie.  So fucking leave.”  Again, the usually very quiet girl Madge Undersee gripped the fork she was eating with in the hand that wasn’t holding onto Rye and brandished at the other girl.

 

Rosemarie eyed the fork, obviously wondering if Madge would do it.  Then she took one look at Rye and realized that maybe he was the bigger threat than a fork.  She stood up, making sure to thrust her breasts one last time in his direction as if showing him what he was missing.

 

“Oh look.  There’s the little girl now.  Hi Prim.”  Rosemarie sneered, her voice dripping with fake honey.  Rye sat, his arms still trapped by the other girls, his jaw clenched and his hands fisted.

 

“Hi everyone.”  Prim watched Rosemarie, the obvious tension at the table having her face twist in confusion.  As soon as he heard her voice, Rye took in a shuddering breath and relaxed.  He opened his eyes and smiled at Madge and Delly who let him go with smiles of their own.

 

“Hi Prim.”  They said.  Prim settled down in the seat Rosemarie had just vacated.  She studied his face, her eyes worried.  He just shook his head and smiled at her.

 

“Why did she just call me little girl?”  She sounded offended.  Prim opened her lunch bag and pulled out an apple. 

 

“Is that all you brought?”  Rye asked, all thought of Rosemarie gone.   Prim nodded dropping her eyes.  She didn’t bring much, ever.  Even with Rye and Gale helping and one less mouth to feed, they had to be careful with their food.

 

Rye huffed, annoyed and pulled out the sandwich he hadn’t touched yet and split it, giving her half.  She’d learned a long time ago not to argue.

 

“Because she’s a bitch.”  Delly said. 

 

“Prim laughed even as Rye cut a look at Delly.

 

“Language, Dell.” He said, which was funny coming from Rye.  He said words no one was sure were real.  Prim looked at him as she chewed.  Something passed over her face that had Madge’s lips quirk in a smile.  Rosemarie wasn’t too far off with her declaration of Prim’s feelings for Rye.  The newly minted fifteen year old had stars in her eyes as far as the middle Mellark boy was concerned.  And Madge wasn’t too sure her feelings were unrequited.

 

“What did she want?”

 

“To ask us about the dance.  And shove her boobs in Rye’s face.” Delly scoffed.

 

“Whatever.”  Rye snorted.  Prim stopped actually eating and picked the crust off her sandwich instead.  Madge watched the younger girl as Prim glanced down at her own chest, scowling at what she saw.

 

“Hey, Prim.  Do you want to come over after school today?  I think I have a new book on medicines that you can look at.”  Madge asked, starting to pack up her things.  Lunch was almost over.

 

Prim’s face lit up and she nodded.  “Yes.  I just have to stop by my house first to let my mother know.”

 

“Ok then.  I’ll see you guys after school.”  Madge stood as the bell rang, waiting for Delly as she grabbed her stuff.

 

Prim gathered her trash and her bag and followed Rye out of the lunchroom.  He looked distracted and annoyed and Prim wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she suddenly felt unsure of herself with him.  The image of Rosemarie’s perfect breasts pushing into Rye’s face caused a pain to lance through her chest.  She wanted to systematically pull every glossy strand of hair out of the other girl’s head and scratch her eyes out. 

 

Jealousy was a new thing to Prim.  And she was finding she didn’t like it.  She was suddenly very afraid that Rye saw her just like Rosemarie described her.  As a little girl.  She looked down at the floor, her eyes catching a glimpse of her twin braids.  Her gangly body was covered in a dress that fit so badly you couldn’t even tell she had breasts.

 

“Are you ok?”  She asked the closer they got to where they had to separate.

 

“Yeah.”  He said, reaching out to tug on one of her braids.  He gave her a smile that still wouldn’t reach his eyes.

 

“Will you dance with me?  At the dance?”  Prim asked, feeling her face heat up with her boldness.  He paused, his eyes searching hers.

 

“Of course.   You’re my girl, right?”  He teased.  She couldn’t explain why the question made her want to cry.

 

“Right.”  She managed, her voice thick.

 

“Get to class. I’ll see you after school.” Rye tugged her braid one more time then disappeared down the hall towards his class, leaving Prim to watch him with a tug in her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I need you folks to trust me. A lot of this story is going to parallel the books. Certain things will happen that happened in Catching Fire and Mockingjay with specific twists to make them fit with the plot that I have created. I’ll be dropping some clues through out the story about a major plot twist. I’ll have fun reading your guesses. I hope you enjoy. Review, review, review.


	3. Chapter 2

Prim tucked her head and moved swiftly through the halls at the end of the day.  She hated the whispers and looks from the other students that followed her as she walked by.  People get killed in the Hunger Games, especially the District 12 tributes.  Usually, the loss is absorbed and ignored by all in the district save the families of the tributes.

 

But not when the tribute volunteers, then falls in love in the arena with her fellow tribute, somehow giving hope to a tragic situation.  And if you were the one volunteered for, apparently that made it ok for everyone to talk behind your back and give you pitying glances.

 

_Poor girl._

_Such a shame._

_Her sister is a hero._

The only one she didn’t mind was the last one.

 

It didn’t help that today had been a bad day.  First the nightmare, the horror of watching her sister die over and over was enough to paralyze her.  Her mother didn’t know how to comfort her.  She tried, but Ginger was at a loss, dealing with her own grief and guilt as she was.  And even though Prim could feel her mother’s disapproval of her relationship with Rye, she didn’t discourage it.  It was if Ginger understood Prim needed him, much more than she needed her mother. 

 

It wasn’t that her mother didn’t like Rye Mellark.  It was almost impossible to hate any of the Mellark boys.  It was the age difference that bothered her.  It was like the three years separating them was closer to twenty.

 

After today, Prim could have told her mother that she didn’t have to worry.  Rye didn’t see her that way.  She hadn’t expected what she’d always supposed to hurt so much.

 

Prim wasn’t exactly sure _when_ her feelings for Rye changed.  Maybe it was when his girlfriend at the time of the Games broke up with him, unable to deal with the changes to his personality.  She’d been so happy for when she found out, she couldn’t help smiling.  Then she realized that she was happy for Rye’s pain and that sobered her right up.

 

But when she thought about it, Prim new the second she _realized_ she liked him more than just a friend.

 

She had gone to the bakery after school, something she did most days.  When Mrs. Mellark wasn’t there, Mr. Mellark would allow her to come sit in the kitchen with them.  She would often work on her homework, content to sit in the near silence of the room, comforted by the ease in which the Mellark men worked together, surrounded by the comforting scent of the bakery. 

 

This particular day, Rye was alone in the shop. Mr. Mellark had needed to go to one of the other merchant shops for something and Graham had the afternoon off.  It was the slowest time of the day, so Rye was mostly just cleaning up.  Then he asked if Prim wanted to make cookies.

 

She’d agreed readily and moved to stand with him where he’d gathered the ingredients.  He showed her the recipe and stood aside to let her put it together, instructing her when she wasn’t sure about an abbreviation or what a certain ingredient was.  They talked about nothing in particular, for once the games not hanging over them like a cloud of doom as they just enjoyed the afternoon together.

 

When it was time to mix, the batter got so thick she struggled moving the spoon.  Rye chuckled and stepped behind her, placing his hand over hers and helping her.  The feel of his chest pressed against her back, the warmth of his large, calloused hand on hers and his scent of baked bread, spices and something inherently _male_ overwhelmed her senses.  She could feel his breath on her cheek as he spoke, even if his words were lost to the haze in her mind.

 

Prim felt lightheaded and breathless, her nerves jittery and on fire.  She didn’t know where this was coming from.  He’d hugged her plenty of times, stood beside her walking to class, even brushed against her in the halls.  This was so different.  She was so much more _aware_ of him.

 

When his arm had brushed hers, she felt the shock of it through her whole body.  Her nipples had hardened and she felt an unfamiliar ache settle between her thighs.  With a mother as a healer she understood some of her reactions.  Her mother just hadn’t told her how intense it was all going to be. 

 

In fact, she was starting to think her mother had played down the whole sexual attraction thing during their very clinical ‘this is how the body works’ discussion. 

 

“Prim, you all right?  You look flushed.”  She’d been mortified when he’d asked this.  Her reaction to him had been obvious, but at least he just thought she wasn’t feeling well.  Somehow she managed not to jerk away from him even though she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.  She’d already made enough of a fool of herself.

 

“I’m fine.”  She managed with a weak smile.  The fact that her voice sounded high and breathy to her only made her more embarrassed.  He looked at her with narrowed eyes for a long moment, but didn’t press her.  When he stepped away a second later, Prim found that she could breath again. 

 

It was later that night, when the ache in her core persisted and she pressed her slender fingers into the slick heat that gathered there that Prim realized what was going on. Rye’s scent still lingered in her nose and the memory of his strong body against hers fueled those first tentative movements of her fingers until the coil of heat in her belly spiraled out into the most acute pleasure she’d ever felt.

 

She was still gasping for breath when her mind clued her into what her heart had already figured out.  Prim had fallen in love with Rye Mellark.

 

The irony was not lost on Prim.  Her own sister had fallen in love with a Mellark boy and here Prim was doing the same thing.  The only difference, Peeta had been in love with Katniss already.  Prim was sure that Rye would only ever see her as a little girl.  Or worse, a sister.

 

Prim sighed and tried to shake off the melancholy that had settled over her since lunch.  Rosemarie’s words still stung even though Prim knew she was just angry Rye ignored her.  It didn’t make the words hurt any less.

 

“Hey, Prim!”  Rory called, stretching his impossibly long legs to catch up with her.  All of the Hawthorne’s were tall.  And while Rory wasn’t quite as tall as his older brother Gale, he didn’t have far to go.  He was much more slender than his brother and his features were almost pretty as opposed to Gale’s more rugged, angular ones.  But there was no doubt that the Hawthorne boys were good looking. 

 

“Hi, Rory.”  She said, trying to smile.  Rory was used to her being sad by now, her usual light dimmed by her guilt and grief.  But even he could tell that something else was bothering her.

 

“What’s wrong?”  He asked, slowing his long gait to match hers.  His tone told her lying to him wasn’t an option. But she tried anyway.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Come on, Prim.  You can’t lie to _me.”_  He stressed the word _me_ to remind her gently that they kept each other’s secrets.  Prim sighed and tucked her books close to her chest, the swell of her breasts pressed flat.

 

“Rosemarie said some stuff today.  About me being a child.”

 

“Rosemarie is a slutty bitch with too much make-up and not enough sense.” Rory said, his Seam grey eyes narrowing in displeasure.  Prim snorted but her amusement didn’t last.

 

“Look at me, Rory.  I wear my hair in two braids like I did when I was twelve. I never even thought what that makes me look like until today.  My clothes fit terribly and I barely have any breasts.  I _do_ look like a child.”

 

Rory clung an arm over her shoulders and tucked her close, his long fingered hand gently squeezing her arm.

 

“So, here’s what you do.  _Stop_ putting your hair in braids.  Put those wicked stitching skills of yours to good use on something other than stitching up a cut and take in your clothes and your boobs are just fine.  I hear more than a handful is a waste.”

 

“Then why are guys always going stupid over big ones?”

 

“You’ll have to ask Gale.” He told her simply.

 

“But he liked Katniss and she had even less than me.”  Prim reminded him.

 

“And Peeta seemed to have no problem with her breasts.”  Rory reminded her with a knowing look.  Prim rolled her eyes at that.  It was a testament to how close they were that he could remind her of the Games and not upset her.  They’d been friends as long as their older siblings, inseparable since they first met.  Like Gale and Katniss, most people misread their relationship.  Unlike Gale and Katniss, neither Rory nor Prim had any interest in the other that way.

 

“I don’t know what you’re implying.”  Prim said, sniffing indignantly at him.

 

“Yeah, I know.”  He answered with a smirk.  They paused on the steps and he turned her to look at him.  “I love you, Prim.  Don’t let Rosemarie’s shit get you down, ok?  You’re worth ten of her. And anybody that can’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

 

Prim felt a smile pull on her lips as the warmth of the love she felt for this boy blossomed in her chest.  She didn’t know what she’d do without him.

 

 “All right.  I’ll try to remember.” She relented after a minute.  Rory smiled and bussed a kiss on her temple then squeezed her shoulder once more.

 

“I’m going to hang out with Luke today.  You gonna walk home with Rye and the girls.”  It was more of a statement than a question but Prim nodded anyway.

 

“I’m going over to Madge’s.  I’ll see you later.”

 

Rory tugged one of her braids much like Rye had earlier, not realizing the action made her want to cut them both off.  She shrugged it off, smiled at him then turned to go meet Rye, Madge and Delly as Rory walked off to meet Luke Tanner, a fellow miner’s son.

 

As soon as she stepped over to the older kids, they started moving as a group.  Prim fell into her own thoughts, not following the others conversation until she felt Rye’s shoulder bump hers.

 

“You ok?”  His blue eyes, which Prim had noticed actually had flecks of brown around the pupils some time after the incident in the bakery, searched her face with concern.

 

“Mm hm. Just tired.”  She told him, glad she’d quickly learned how to keep her voice steady when her nerves were jumping like they were now.  Her pulse skittered in her chest but she was somehow able to keep her composure.

 

She wondered if Katniss had felt this same dip in her stomach when she looked at Peeta.  Did the pressure of the Games and impending death amplify her feelings until she thought she would burst from it?  Prim couldn’t imagine the feelings she had being any… _more_.

 

It was times like this she missed Katniss the most.  Maybe she could help Prim understand everything that was going on with her.  Her mother was no good.  Her disapproval of Rye stemmed from his age.  And Ginger wouldn’t like it at all if she thought her daughter had feelings for him.

 

Of course, Katniss hadn’t seen that Gale had feelings for her when the entire District had.  And it took Peeta declaring himself to all of Panem for her to realize how she felt about him.  Not to mention Katniss had never wanted to admit that Prim was growing up.  So maybe Katniss wouldn’t have been a good person to talk to about all this after all. 

 

“Prim?”  Rye’s voice cut through her thoughts again and she felt herself flush.  The concern in his eyes made her heart thud hard and she hoped she didn’t have some dopey love struck smile on her face.

 

“I’m fine, Rye.  Really.  I’ll stop by the bakery on my way home.”

 

Rye stared at her for a moment longer, his dark blonde brows drawn together.  “All right.”  He finally said.

 

“Come on, Prim.” Madge called.  The four split up, Delly and Rye taking the road towards town and Prim and Madge heading up the long drive to Madge’s house.

 

Neither spoke, the silence comforting.  Prim used to chatter away about nothing and everything all the time.  Except when she was assisting her mother, then she could hold her tongue and observe the situation, asking only the questions that needed asking.  Now, however, she often got lost in thought, forgetting that she was even in the same room with someone.  Unless it was Rye.  She rarely forgot he was around.

 

Madge’s house rose above them, a house much bigger than the ones in town and especially the Seam.  But the houses in Victor’s Village where Haymitch Abernathy lived were still bigger.  It was dark with the coal dust that perpetually floated in the air, the brick nearly black with it.  Windows gleamed in the afternoon sun, the garden in front spilling with the color of flowers Prim only saw in books before. 

 

Life in the District was too hard for many to afford something as luxurious as flowers growing in their own yard.   But she guessed the Mayor’s house had to be up to Capital standards.  The only other place that had such a thing was the Village.  Not that you could tell that from Haymitch’s house.  The old drunken mentor seemed to go to extremes to make sure his house looked like it should be condemned. 

 

Madge led them on a little path that curved around to the back of the house.  The path led to a back yard teeming with even more color, the late fall flowers giving off one last blast of brilliance before winter set in and turned this garden as drab as the rest of Twelve.

 

“Hi, Bonnie.”  Madge said as she and Prim let themselves into the large, cavernous kitchen.  A large fireplace dominated the back of the room, where Twill, Bonnie’s young daughter played.  Prim smiled at the Seam girl, who was busy building a castle with blocks.  It always made Prim happy to see someone from the Seam glow with health.  And that’s what both Bonnie and Twill did. 

 

They lived in the mansion in a tiny set of rooms designated for the staff next to the kitchen.  Bonnie had been with the Undersee’s since her mother, who had also been the cook/maid for the family, passed on.  Twill’s father had been killed in the mine’s.  Something Prim sympathized with all too well.  She knew that Bonnie’s father still lived in the Seam and thanks to the Undersee’s keeping his daughter employed, he had the distinction of being the longest-lived man in the district.

 

“Hello, Miss Margaret.  Hello Miss. Prim.”  Bonnie moved easily around the kitchen, slicing bread, pouring lemonade and toasting the bread seemingly all at the same time.  “We got a shipment of peanut butter on the last train.  Would you girls like some peanut butter toast?”

 

“Yes, please, Bonnie.  Is my father home yet?”  Madge asked as she and Prim settled at the large kitchen island.  Bonnie set two glasses of lemonade in front of them and shook her head.

 

“No, miss.  He told me this morning not to hold dinner because he had meetings late today about the Festival.”

 

Madge nodded and sipped her drink.  She considered Prim who was sitting next to her.  She remembered the vibrant girl from the year before, always talking and smiling.  How everyone loved her like the ray of sunshine she was.  And now, she was still one of the kindest people Madge knew, but she was so silent.  Her light dimmed by sadness and guilt.  It broke Madge’s heart to see the younger girl like this.  She knew that Katniss wouldn’t want this either.  Everything Katniss had ever done was to protect the blossom of her sister.

 

And if Rye Mellark brought that spark back, Madge had no problem helping her get it.

 

“So, Prim.  What are you going to wear to the dance next week?”  She knew the reaction the question would get as soon as she asked it.  Prim’s eyes widened and a flush of embarrassment rose up practically to the girl’s hairline.  Prim shook her head, making her braids dance and swallowing the sip of lemonade she’d just taken hard.

 

“I don’t know.  Probably one of my nicer dresses.”  Prim said trying not to sound dejected at the thought of it.  Madge looked over at Bonnie, who was staring at her curiously, with just a hint of anger in the Seam eyes.  Madge shook her head slightly, assuring Bonnie that she wasn’t trying to hurt the other girl.  Bonnie arched a brow, and then set the thick slices of toast coated with peanut butter in front of them. 

 

“You know, I have some clothes upstairs that I’m just not wearing anymore.  Out grew them ages ago.  Would you like to go through them and see if there’s anything you like?  I’m going to send them to the Community Home otherwise.” 

 

“No, that’s fine.  They could use them more than me.”  Prim told her, shoving her toast in her mouth.  Madge pressed her lips together and looked back at Bonnie who had understanding blossoming on her face.

 

“You know, Primrose.  I know that sometimes when someone is trying to do something nice, us folks from the Seam like to see it as a balance sheet.  We don’t like to owe anyone.”  Bonnie stepped up to the younger girl and met Prim’s blue eyes with her own.  This girl looked so much like the Merchant’s daughter she was mixed with the Seam sensibility it was enough to break Bonnie’s heart.  And she knew that her sister Katniss’ would rather cut off her own arm than take charity.  But sometimes, and Bonnie hoped that Prim would understand, it was more than ok to take a gift.

 

“Miss Margaret wants to give you some clothes because she is your friend and she cares about you.  There is no check in the owe column with that.  It’s what friends do.  They help each other for no other reason than the want to do it.  You would accept help from the Hawthorne’s, right?”  She waited for Prim to nod.  “You accept bread from Rye, right?”  Another nod.  “So, sweet child.  This isn’t any different.  Don’t offend Margaret by not accepting a gift that’s given from the heart.  Ok?”

 

Prim looked at Bonnie with those wide, blue eyes, the surface shining with tears.  Madge watched the conversation with bated breath, the exchange between the Seam women allowing her to see a mentality she hadn’t fully understood, even being friends with Katniss.  After a long moment, Prim dropped eyes and nodded.

 

“Ok.  Thank you, Madge.  I’ll look over what you have.” 

 

Madge took a shaky breath and nodded, afraid to trust her voice.  She looked up gratefully at Bonnie, who smiled.  Bonnie ran a hand gently over Prim’s arm then returned to preparing dinner.  Madge caught a glimpse of Twill on the floor, surrounded by her blocks, who had watched the exchange with wide, curious eyes.  Then she too went back to her business.

 

The girls finished their snack in the comfortable silence they were used too.  When they were done, Bonnie took their dishes, smiled warmly at both girls, and then shooed them out.  As they walked out of the kitchen, Prim looked at Madge as if she’d just made a realization.

 

“You didn’t invite me over here to look at a new medical book, did you?”  Her eyes narrowed slightly with the accusation.  Madge had the good grace to give her a sheepish smile.

 

“No, I didn’t.”  Prim absorbed this for a moment before nodding.   Madge slid her arm around the younger girls slender shoulders and gave her a squeeze.  “Lets go see what we can find.”  And with that, she led Prim upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did ok with the explanation of why Prim should accept the clothes from Madge. I always think that sometimes, fanfic authors overdo the whole ‘no more owed’ mentality with Katniss. My perception was that she only really stressed this with Peeta and I always thought that she made such a big deal out of it because of how conflicted she was about him. That’s my opinion though. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. As you may have notice, Rye’s in denial, Prim is more attuned to her feelings, but still freaked out. Madge is awesome. And so is Rory. I hope you enjoyed this little look into Prim and Madge’s heads. Back to Rye next chapter. Review, review, review. Lisa/Jypz


	4. Chapter 3

##  _Changes_

 

When Prim walked into the bakery just before closing that evening, Rye nearly swallowed his tongue.  He did drop the broom he’d been sweeping with.  All he could do was stare, his mouth hanging open in stunned appreciation.  All thought seemed to exit his head the second she stepped through the door and it was all he could do to remember that he wasn’t allowed to touch.

 

She stood before him, twisting her fingers nervously in front of her, _not_ wearing the dress she’d worn to school.  In its place was a pair of denim pants that skimmed down impossibly long legs, hugging them almost like skin.  A soft, long sleeve blue t-shirt was tucked into the pants to accentuate her slender waist and high, pert breasts.  Her hair was loose and he could tell that several inches had been trimmed off so it hung like a golden cloud around her face.

 

And he had been right about the affect on him if she’d ever discovered make-up.  It was light, but applied with an expert had.  It accented the blue of her eyes, the natural peach of her skin, the pink of her lips.  He knew that Madge must have helped her with it.  And he’d bet his next week’s wages that she’d given Prim the clothes as well.

 

“Hello, Rye.”  Prim said, the shakiness of her voice and the twisting of her finger telling him how nervous she was.  She dropped her eyes, then brought them back up to his with a sweep of lashes that would have looked practiced and calculated on a girl like Rosemarie.  On Prim it was sweet and charming, not to mention outrageously sexy.

 

When she tucked her bottom lip between the vivid white of her teeth, Rye had to choke back a moan.

 

“Rye, what’s taking so long?” Mr. Mellark walked from the back, followed his dumbstruck son’s gaze to Prim and smiled brightly when he saw her new look.  “Well, Primrose.  Don’t you look lovely?”

 

“Thank you,” Prim blushed prettily with Mr. Mellark’s compliment, though her eyes didn’t leave Rye, who still hadn’t said anything.  Not even hello.  He didn’t think he could.  His tongue felt too big for his mouth all of a sudden and he was sure he’d make a fool of himself if he tried to speak.

 

“Rye, doesn’t she look pretty?”  Mr. Mellark prompted.  All of the sadness that had been playing on this man seemed to melt away in those few minutes.  There was a spark in his eyes that had been missing far longer than Rye liked to remember and his shoulders weren’t sagged like they had been just an hour ago.  Rye was just in as much awe of that as he was Prim’s appearance.

 

Bram looked to where his son still stood staring at Prim, rolled his eyes and knocked Rye’s shoulder with his knuckles.

 

“Hm, what?”  Rye looked at his father with wide eyes, the look on his face like he was coming out of a daze.  Bram arched a brow at him and repeated his question.  Rye looked back at Prim and nodded.  “Yes sir. She does.”  Somehow, Prim flushed even deeper and ducked her head.

 

“Walk the girl home.  I’ll finish up.”  Bram said with a smirk.

 

The fact that this was the most Bram had said to him in months wasn't lost on Rye as he nodded and went into the back to get his jacket.  He dropped his apron on the clean prep table on the way back to the front.  Bram was smiling when he stepped back through to the front, talking to a still blushing Prim.

 

He felt a tightening in his groin at the sight of her.  So different than just a couple of hours ago.  He made a note to have a word with Madge about it later.  He just wasn’t sure if he as going to thank her or choke her.

 

“I’ll be back.”  Rye told his father.  He opened the door for Prim and he couldn’t help but appreciate the sweet curve of her ass being hugged by those damn jeans.  He bit his cheek to keep from groaning and his shoved his hands in his jacket to keep them from reaching for her.  The very thought of her in his arms, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo, feeling her lithe young body pressed against his was enough torture on its own.  Now she was wearing clothes that told him his imagination hadn’t even been close to the truth of how beautiful she truly was under those ugly dresses.

 

He’d never been so glad for her to put on her jacket in his life.

 

The walk was made in silence.  Not the usual comfortable silence either.  This one was full of the tension that had been gradually building since Prim had realized her feelings and Rye had realized that Prim was a girl.  A very attractive girl.  _Young woman_.  Things that needed to be said died on tongues before mouths could be open.  Nerves kept eyes from meeting, insecurity kept gazes on the ground. 

 

“Rye, you haven’t said anything.”  Prim said, her clear blue gaze flitting to and away from him.  She looked unsure and he watched her reach for braids that were no longer there to tug in that nervous habit of hers.  When she only encountered loose waves she let her hands fall to her sides.

 

Rye reached out and took one of her slender hands, the feel of her smooth, cool skin a balm against his calloused palm.  He drew them to a stop several feet from her house and looked at her.

 

“You look beautiful, Prim.”

 

“Not like a little girl?”  She blurt out, flushing bright red when he gave her a wide-eyed look.  Understanding bloomed in his face at that. 

 

“Prim,” Rye started.  He didn’t really know what he was going to say.   Peeta was always the one that knew what to say. Rye had just usually told jokes and relied on humor to diffuse a situation.  And when that didn’t work, he hit something.  Neither would help now.  But he knew, with one hundred percent certainty, that he did not see Prim as a little girl.  Not if the battle against the hard on that kept trying to tent his jeans was an indication of his feelings.

 

However Prim couldn’t see inside his mind and she must have read his hesitancy for something other than the answer she wanted.  She yanked her hand out of his and took a step away.  Surprise swept across his face and he reached for her once again. 

 

“Wait, Prim.”  She evaded his reach and turned on her heel stalking away from him.  Her golden hair bounced behind her like those models on those Capital shampoo commercials he saw during mandatory broadcasts.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”  Her boots echoed on the stairs of her porch and she sent one last glance at him before she pushed inside.

 

“What the hell?”  She hadn’t even given him a chance to answer.  He shoved a frustrated hand through his hair and glared at her door for lack of anything else to do.  He contemplated walking up and dragging her back outside so he could make her listen.  Or show her.  He’d never wanted to kiss her more than he did in that second.  To take away the hurt he’d seen in that last glance, to assure her that he saw her as the beautiful young woman she was.

 

But he wasn’t sure if that was even what she wanted.  And she’d probably stab him or something.  His feelings for her had been carefully controlled, shoved to the back of his mind where they wouldn’t bother him or get him into trouble.  They had both been grieving, clinging to each other as the only other people that understood.  Somehow it had turned into more, so much more on his part. 

 

Not to mention her mother, the healer, probably knew twenty ways to kill him without getting caught.  That left no doubt in Rye’s mind that he should just turn around and walk back home.  He’d make things right with her in the morning.

 

Rye was still plenty annoyed that she’d turned on him so quick though.  She hadn’t even given him a chance.  She had thrown the question out at him, expected an answer as soon as the last syllable left her mouth and then got pissed when he didn’t answer quickly enough.

 

Latching onto the anger suited Rye much better than letting the hopelessness of his affections take hold of him. 

 

_Of course she’s fucking gorgeous,_ he said to himself, stomping up the back steps to the bakery.  He stalked through the bakery kitchen, up the stairs to their apartment, past his parents who were drinking a cup of tea together at the dining table and down the hall to his room.  He ignored the way they both stared after him in confusion.

 

Graham looked up from the book he was reading when Rye came in the room.

 

“What’s wrong with you/”

 

“Why are females so…?" Rye reared on his brother, his hand shoving through his blond waves in frustration.

 

“Female?”  Graham offered with a smirk.

 

“Yeah!”  Rye agreed, violently kicking off his shoes and tossing his jacket onto the edge of his bed creating a breeze that blew some papers off of Peeta’s desk.  They rustled gently in the air to land on the floor at Rye’s feet.

 

Graham snickered and looked back at his book.  “One of the great mysteries of life, little brother.”  He turned a page, then looked back up at Rye.  “I didn’t know you were seeing anybody.” Graham sounded almost relieved at the idea.

 

“I’m not.”  Rye reached down and picked up the papers, his gaze falling on the careful drawing of Katniss and Prim.  His heart clenched tight at the beauty of the picture in his hand.  He could see the freckles dusting Katniss’ nose and the stray wisps of hair escaping Prim’s braids. There was just a hint of a smile on Katniss’ face as she looked adoringly at her sister.  He coughed to dislodge the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.

 

Rye couldn’t help tracing every line of Prim’s form.  This was a glimpse of what she’d been like before she’d been reaped.  Her smile was still easy, but not quite as bright as Peeta’s depiction.  The cornflower blue eyes of hers dancing as she grinned at Katniss.  This couldn’t have been long before the reaping.

 

The picture was so lifelike, Rye felt like he could almost reach out and touch the warmth of Prim’s cheek.  He realized that Peeta’s life would have been wasted here in Twelve.  Hell, anywhere in the God forsaken world they lived in.  Only those in the Capital were allowed to create books, music, and art.  Maybe if he’d lived to be a Victor, he could have done something with his talent, but he hadn’t.

 

But if Rye had volunteered-or better yet, Peeta’s name had never been called at all-the only art his brother would have been able to create would have been on the cakes hardly anyone could afford to buy.

 

“Not you too,” Rye started when Graham’s voice sounded in his ear.  Apparently, while he’d been lost in thought staring at the picture, he hadn’t noticed Graham getting up and moving across the room.

 

“What?”  Rye didn’t like the guilty urge he had to hide the picture away from his older brother.

 

“The Everdeen girl.”  Graham pointed a finger at Prim, a scowl on his face. 

 

“What about her?”  Rye asked, the mild sound of his voice belying the anger that was building at Graham’s distaste.

 

“You got a thing for her.  Bad enough Peeta panted after Katniss for years.  At least they were the same age.”

 

“Prim is fifteen.”

 

“Yeah, and you’re eighteen.  This is your last year of Reaping and school.” Graham reminded him.  “Shouldn’t you be looking for someone that could better your chances, not make them worse?”

 

It took everything in Rye not to punch Graham straight in the face.

 

“Better my chances?” Rye ground out, his blue eyes snapping with anger.  “Don’t you mean whore myself out to the first Merchant girl that will have me so I don’t have to dirty myself in the mines.”

 

“Come on, Rye. That’s not…” Graham held his hands up in a placating manner, but Rye wouldn’t have it.

 

“Don’t say that’s not what you meant. It’s _exactly_ what you meant.”  Rye pushed Graham away from him, not hard enough to send him flying, but enough to tell his brother to _back off._   “I’m not going to get married just to keep myself out of the mines.  If I have to work there and move to the damn Seam, so the fuck what?  You’ve got the bakery. Don’t worry about me.  We all knew this was going to happen eventually.  And I always knew that between the two of us, Peeta would have been the brother you kept on.  So, take your _concern_ and shove it straight up your ass.”

 

Rye grabbed his shoes and his jacket and took off out of the room.

 

“It’s almost curfew.”  Bram called as Rye walked passed.

 

“I’m just going to the backyard.”  Rye mumbled, anger and misery burning in his eyes.  He hated this shit, this life he was being forced to live.  He hated the Capital for taking his brother, hated that his own family expected him to marry just so he didn’t shame them and move the Seam.  He hated that Prim was mad at him, that he didn’t feel like he could let his feelings for her flourish.  Hated that he felt so raw and damaged that he just wanted to punch _anything._  

 

He hated that he didn’t feel like he deserved her.

 

Rye stomped out into the backyard, past the pigpen and over to the apple tree.  He slumped down next to it, unwittingly sitting in the exact same spot Katniss had all those years ago.  He banged his head lightly on the trunk, willing the stinging in his eyes to go away.  He swiped at the wetness that spilled onto his cheeks, gritted his teeth against the well of emotion that was rising up, threatening to choke him.

 

Rye looked up at the canopy of limbs above him, wishing that something could just make all of this _stop._ The pain, the guilt, the grief.  He couldn’t stand it anymore.  He didn’t know how much more he could take before he shattered.  His breath came in large huffs as he struggled to control himself.  The nip in the air blew white with each gasp from his lips. 

 

He punched the ground, the pain in his hand doing nothing to centering him.  He blinked and struggled against the urge to rage, to kick and scream and beat the earth until his hands were bloody.  When he got like this, he wished for Prim.  For her calm and gentle way.  For the light that she carried with her that washed over him like a balm.  But she was mad at him.  He didn’t know how to make it better.

 

Rye took several more deep breaths, the chilly air easing the tightness that had settled there.  He took the picture out of his pocket, smoothing the lines that had creased it when he folded it.  Prim’s smile shone out at him, calming him.  He vowed, as he looked down at her image that he would make things right with her.  He’d figure out what she wanted from him and he’d give it to her.  He couldn’t survive any other way.

 

With that decision made, Rye tucked the drawing back in his pocket, then wiped his hands over his face.  It was still several minutes before he made the trip back inside.  Once he did, his dreams weren’t filled with blood and death.  For the first time, he dreamt of blue eyes and blond hair and a smile that could rival the sun.

 

* * *

Rye’s intentions of making everything right with Prim get sidetracked the next day.

 

Because the next day, the cameras come.  And when they come, they shatter any illusion of peace Rye and Prim could have ever hoped to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/n- I’m sorry this took so long. For those that don’t follow my tumblr, I started a new shift at work (From day to overnight, yikes) and I had to adjust and get my schedule back on track. I’m off this weekend, so I plan to get all three stories updated before I go back to work on Monday. So, the main plot of the story is about to begin. The parallel between the books will start once the Quell is announced. Please review, review, review.


	5. Cameras

# Chapter Four

_Cameras_

Prim woke up the next day, feeling gritty eyed, exhausted and very, very foolish.  When she’d left Rye the night before, she didn’t even say anything to her mother.  She walked into their bedroom, stripped out of the clothes Madge gave her and put on her nightgown.

 

Then she’d gone to the bathroom and scrubbed the make-up off her face, again ignoring her mother when she walked back to the bedroom.  She didn’t want to talk about what happened.  When she crawled into bed and hugged her sister’s pillow tight, tears leaked from her eyes despite her keeping them tightly closed.

 

Her mother had knocked once, telling her that Madge had dropped a box off for her.  Prim managed a sound of acknowledgement but didn’t turn over.  She could hear Ginger hesitate at the door like she wanted to say something more.  But after several seconds, her mother left and Prim was grateful for once that her mother didn’t press.

 

Now, in the light of day, her behavior from the night before was glaringly shameful.  She had asked him a question, and then ran away in a huff before he could answer.  She’d acted like the child she was trying so hard to prove she wasn’t. 

 

_Great job, Prim,_ she thought, disgusted with herself.  With a sigh she rubbed her eyes, hating the puffy, dry feeling.  It was physical evidence of her idiocy.  She groaned and flopped back on the bed, grabbing her pillow and pressing it against her chest as she stared up at the ceiling. 

 

As she stared, her thoughts drifted away from the way she’d acted to the memory of Rye’s face when Prim had walked into the bakery.  He’d looked stunned and something else Prim wasn’t quite savvy enough to recognize.  She remembered the heat she’d felt when his dark blue eyes raked over her.

 

_And he’d dropped the broom!_

Something about that just made her feel giddy inside.

 

She remembered the look in his eyes that even with her inexperience could recognize as want.  Rye _wanted_ her.  Prim felt her heart skip in her chest.  She pressed her hands against her lips to contain the laugh that bubbled up.  She didn’t want to alert her mother to her being awake just yet.

 

Then, just like that her happiness dimmed.  She sighed heavily, knowing she’d need to make it right with Rye today.  Maybe she hadn’t ruined everything.

 

“Primrose?” Ginger opened up the bedroom door, her concern obvious on her face.

 

“Morning, mom.”  Prim smiled, hoping to erase her mother’s concern.  Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

 

“Are you feeling all right?  What happened to your hair?”   Concern was replaced with shock when Prim sat up and her hair became visible to Ginger.  Prim’s slim fingers dove into her hair, feeling the missing length and nearly laughed.  Ginger came in and sat next to her, her own hand coming up to brush over the considerably shorter length.

 

“Oh, I had Bonnie take off some of the length.” Madge had talked her into it, actually.  At first, Prim had been terrified.  And she’d felt physically ill when she’d seen the several inches of blonde silk hitting the kitchen floor.  But it felt so much _lighter_ and it framed her face so much better, taking away the little girl cuteness with each snap of the scissors.  But the look on her mother’s face made her think that maybe she’d done something wrong.

 

“I’m sorry.  I should have asked first.”  Ginger shook her head at that, pressing her lips together.  Prim saw a suspicious gleam in her mother’s eyes.

 

“It’s your hair, Prim. You don’t have to ask permission to change it.”  But Ginger still looked sad, she gently cupped Prim’s cheek and sniffed.  “You’re growing up so fast.”

 

“Mom?”  Prim didn’t’ know what to say to chase the clouds swirling in Ginger’s eyes.

 

“No, no.”  Ginger pressed her lips together and struggled to compose herself.  When she did, the concern was back.  “Are you all right?  You didn’t seem to be feeling well last night.” 

 

“I’m fine.  I think I ate too much peanut butter at Madge’s.”  Prim only felt a little guilty for lying to her mother.  Ginger saw through it immediately, Prim could tell by the delicate arch of her mother’s brow.  But she chose to let it go.

 

“You should get ready for school.  It’ getting late.”  She gently patted Prim’s cheek and stood. “Oh, I might not be home this afternoon.  Emmaline Nash is due any day now.”

 

“Can I come help?”  Prim loved babies and she was always eager to help her mother.  She wanted to be a healer like Ginger.  Ginger smiled the same smile that never seemed to quite reach her eyes.  Prim was thankful that Katniss death hadn’t broken her mother the rest of the way. It was like Ginger had taken Katniss’ last words to her to heart. But Ginger had lost a husband and a child in the scant forty years she’d been alive.  Prim was sure she only felt a fraction of the pain her mother did, and Prim’s was almost unbearable.

 

“Thank you, Prim.  If you’re here when the time comes of course.  Now, hurry. I’ll make you some breakfast.”

 

As soon as Ginger left, Prim dove into the box Madge brought over.  She rifled through the dresses and pants and blouses.  She’d tried to limit what she took to three outfits.  But Madge had insisted, reminding her she was just going to give them away and why not to Prim?  So, Prim had agreed to take them all.  She figured whatever she didn’t use she could spread through the Seam. Or at least hold for Posy.

 

Since she was going to school, and frankly she’d worn enough dresses in her young life, she settled on another pair of jeans and a soft sweater in a soft shade of yellow.  The clothes fit fairly well, save for Prim’s legs being just an inch or two longer than Madge’s.  Luckily, her boots covered the gap.

 

She brushed her hair and teeth, washed her face then carefully applied the mascara and blush like Madge had shown her. A slick of pale gloss and Prim was ready to go.  When she walked out of the room, her mother glance up.  Then stared.

 

“Oh, Prim.”  She breathed, her hand fluttering around her heart.  Prim felt self conscious under her mother’s scrutiny and she tried hard not to fidget.  “Are these changes for Rye?”

 

“Mom,”

 

“Because I’m not comfortable…”

 

“Mom, please stop.  These changes are for me.”  Prim sucked in a breath as she realized that what she said was true.  Rye might have spurred them, but they were a long time coming.   Katniss had wanted to shelter her, keep her sweet and innocent.  But in this world that they lived in, that was impossible.  She’d kept that image for a long time, allowed her sister’s memory to shelter her still.  But those days were over, now.  She was Primrose Everdeen.  And no one would call her Katniss’ little sister anymore.

 

“I’m not a little girl anymore.” Prim told her, exhibiting a confidence she was just starting to discover. Ginger wrung her hands together as she looked at her youngest daughter.  Prim walked over and took them in her own, stilling their movement.

 

“You’re still so young.”

 

“But I’m old enough to die in the arena like Katniss?”  It came out harsher than she’d intended and she felt guilty for the way Ginger flinched, but she didn’t feel guilty for what she said.  “Please don’t worry.”

 

Ginger chewed her bottom lip between her teeth.  Prim looked at her mother, the pale, hollow cheeks, sad eyes and more silver than blonde in her hair.  Her mother had disappeared when her father died; something Katniss had never been able to forgive her for.  Prim was softer than Katniss, but even she harbored a shed of resentment towards the woman that birthed her.

 

“He’s just so much older than you.  Nearly a man.” 

 

_He is a man,_ Prim said to herself.  A man she wanted. 

 

“He’s only three years older than me.  And he’s my friend.”  Prim’s eyes never wavered from her mother’s.  She did her best to let her mother know just how futile it would be to keep her away from Rye.   After a minute, Ginger seemed to get this and nodded.

 

“Be careful.”  Was all she said, and then urged Prim to eat the toast and tea she made for her.

 

Prim ate quickly then washed her dishes before kissing her mother and sliding a hand down her cat Buttercup’s back.  She made a mental note to milk Lady when she got home when she went into to get her school bag that Madge had dropped off the night before.  She grabbed her jacket and made it outside just as the three town kids got to her door.

 

Prim skidded to a stop on the porch, her eyes immediately locking with Rye’s.  She saw that same heat from the night before and she basked in its warmth.  She recognized the unspoken apology on his face and she nodded, hoping he recognized hers as well.

 

“Come on, we’re going to be late.”  Delly’s cheerful voice broke the moment and Prim felt herself blush at the knowing look Madge and Delly shared.

 

“All right, jeez.” Rory loped over from his house.  When his grey eyes landed on Prim, he brought his hand to his heart and grinned.  “Well hello, Primrose.  Look who’s bloomed.”

 

“Ugh.  That was awful.”  Prim said with a scowl.  They all shared a laugh at Rory’s bad joke and Prim came off the porch to fall into step between Rye and Rory. 

 

“You look great.”  She heard Rye whisper and she smiled in response.

 

“Excuse me!”  The five paused at the call.  They all turned to watch a woman with long blond hair, half of which was shaved on the left side, hurry up the path from town.  She was wearing simple slacks and a blouse and jacket, but there was no doubt that she was Capital.  And the man following behind her with some strange apparatus on his head was as well.  Prim thought he looked like some strange kind of bug.

 

“Excuse me, hello.  Mr. Mellark?  Miss Everdeen?  I don’t know if you remember me.”  The woman and man stopped in front of the group, her smile wide and not as reassuring as Prim was sure she meant it to be.  She recognized her almost at once and she knew Rye did as well.  She suddenly found herself shifted behind Rory and Rye with Madge and Delly flanking her.

 

“You’re Cressida.”  Rye sounded almost like he was accusing her.  “You’re a reporter from the Capital.”

 

“That’s right.”  Another wide toothy smile and she got right down to business.  “As you well know, the Quell is coming up and the replay of the past games will begin.  With it, there will be interviews from the surviving members of the tributes families.”  There had been seventy-five games.  How many interviews did they plan to air?

 

“So?” Rye asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest.  Rory did the same, although the affect was quite as impressive.  The glare he wore made up for that.

 

“So,” Cressida dragged out the word for three syllables.  “As the siblings of the Star Crossed Lovers, our producer felt that a special report was in order.”

 

“No.”  Rye said shortly, turning away from the stunned looking woman and gently gripping Prim’s elbow to steer her away.  Madge, Delly and Rory fell in behind them.

 

“But, Mr. Mellark.” Cressida called, scurrying after them.

 

“I said no.  We’re late for school.”  Rye growled.  Prim moved quickly beside him, desperate to get away from the awful woman. 

 

“That means go away, in case you don’t understand.” Rory called back, the sneer evident in his voice.  Cressida was still following them when they made it to the schoolyard.  The other kids turned to stare at the strange procession.  To her surprise, the crowd in the yard started to close in on them, separating the small group from the reporter and the cameraman.  Before they disappeared inside the building, Prim glanced back and saw Cressida watching them go inside, a hand on her hip and frustrated annoyance all over her pretty face.

 

“Fucking parasites.”  Rye huffed, releasing Prim.  She felt the loss of the gentle pressure of his fingers against her.  “All right, looks like we have to be careful now.  We stick together, right?”

 

“Always do.”  Rory reminded him, clapping a hand on the older boy’s shoulder.  “But, we do have to get to class. And she can’t come in here.”

 

“Yeah.  We should be safe in here.  We’ll see you at lunch.”  Madge and Delly smiled and took off down the hall to there class.  Rye turned to follow them.  He looked back at Prim and smiled.

 

“Remember, wait for me or Rory before heading out of the building this afternoon.  Preferably both of us.”

 

“Ok.” Prim nodded, shifting her bag and getting ready to head to her own class.  She paused when she felt his warm hand close around hers.  She looked at him quizzically, then he stole her breath when he pressed his lips to her cheek.

 

“You really are beautiful, Primrose.”  He told her softly.  He then gave her hand a squeeze and walked away.

 

It was all Prim could d not to skip down the hall.

 

* * *

_PRIMROSE EVERDEEN, RYLAN MELLARK PLEASE REPORT TO THE OFFICE._

The bell signaling the start of their first class had barely rung when the announcement erupted from the intercom in Prim’s homeroom.  She walked up and got the hall pass from her teacher, ignored the catcalls of her classmates and hurried out into the hall.  She met up with Rye in the main hallway, his look of confusion surely mirroring her own.

 

“I’m not surprised that I’m being called to the office.  What the hell did _you_ do?”  Rye teased.

 

“Must be because I hang around you.” She teased back, nudging his arm with her shoulder.  “Guilt by association.”  They both laughed at this.  As they walked, their hands swung close together.  Prim bit her lip and reached over to loosely link their fingers together.  Her breath hitched when he turned his hand and slid their palms together, tugging her a little close to him.

 

She hazarded a glance at him and saw his answering smile.  She felt thei happiness bloom in her chest and she had to bite back the giggle that wanted to burst from her lips.  They walked like that the rest of the way to the office.  Then Rye let go of her to hold open the door for her. 

 

“My lady,” he gestured, giving her a wink as she walked by.  She did giggle then.  And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel guilty for the happiness that was bubbling inside of her.

 

“Can I help you?”  The secretary behind the desk looked up when they walked in, recognition settling over her features even before the door swung shut.  “Oh, Prim and Rye.  Hold on a second.”  She reached over to the intercom on her desk and announced the blond pair.

 

“Send them back.”  Came the tinny reply from the principal.  The secretary stood and let them through the partition that separated the waiting are from the offices, then led them down the short hall to the last door.  She knocked briefly and opened it once she heard the call of ascension.

 

Prim walked in first, drawing up short when she saw the beautiful blonde woman sitting and her bug-like companion inside.

 

“What the hell is this?”  Rye demanded, immediately pushing Prim behind him. 

 

“Rye,” Principal Hardy said, the warning clear in his voice.  He was a short, stout man with the illusion of health the well fed in the district managed to put on.  His dark, graying hair was swept back from his round face and his suit was rumpled.  But he was a king man who normally found himself amused by Rye’s antics.  Until Rye had changed and had become more and more angry with each passing day.

 

He studied the young man now, standing in front of Prim, his hands clenched into fists as if he would use them to break the camera turned in his direction.  It disgusted him what he had to force these children to do, to open themselves up to the whim of the Capital.  But in comparison to the Games, this was nothing.

 

“Please you two.  Come in and sit.”  He watched as Prim settled a hand on Rye’s shoulder, the affect of her light touch immediate.  The older boy seemed to deflate, his shoulders releasing their tension when Rye looked back at her.  He nodded after a second then motioned for Prim to sit farthest away from the reporter. Rye then sat in the remaining chair and glared at everyone else in the room.

 

Mr. Hardy sighed, linked his fingers together in front of him and looked at the two blonde children.

 

“Ms. Cressida brought it to my attention that you two refused to do an interview with her this morning.”  Rye jerked a shoulder at this and Prim’s eyes widened.  “As you know, this is against the law of Panem.”  The distaste he felt was obvious and he sent a look to the reporter.  Cressida merely arched a brow at him.

 

“We were late for school.  That’s against Panem law, too.”  Rye snapped.

 

“Yes it is.  But the Games trump everything.  You would have been excused from being tardy.  Now, Ms. Cressida would like just a few minutes of your time, then you two can return to class.  All right?”

 

Rye practically vibrated with anger and Prim just looked sad.  “Fine.” He snarled after a look at Prim.  Mr. Hardy nodded and rose, looking at Cressida now. 

 

“I’ll let you have my office for fifteen minutes.” Cressida arched that brow again, then nodded, continuing her silence since the children walked into the room. Mr. Hardy moved around his desk and stopped in front of Rye and Prim. “I’m sorry.” He said quietly, looking at them until Rye nodded tersely and Prim gave him a tight smile. Then he walked out of the office, closing the door soundly behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, updating for this and my other stories will be a bit random from now on. My schedule changed at work so my writing schedule is different now. Also, after this round of updates I’m going to be pausing to complete my submission for Fandoms 4LLS. I hope you all will want to donate and read all the awesomeness that will be submitted for that. I’m doing another Rye/Prim piece set at Katniss/Peeta’s wedding. Hope you’ll enjoy it. I apologize for any and all mistakes. 
> 
> Please review, review, review. It makes me happy. :D Lisa/Jypz


	6. Aftermath

 

# Chapter Five

## Aftermath

The next week went by in a bit of a blur for Prim. The interview she and Rye had been forced to do got pushed to the back of her mind once it was over. She didn’t really care over much about the questions she’d been asked.  Rye, having that inherent Mellark charm that he and Peeta had seemed to exude from their pores, took most of the questions. 

 

Cressida had been intent on asking questions about their relationship, how the Star-crossed lovers had affected them. How it would feel for them to be seen as a symbol of hope like their brother and sister had.  Prim hadn’t understood just what Cressida was getting at, but Rye eased through her questions with a smile.  A forced one, but a smile nonetheless. 

 

Something about the whole thing had felt dangerous to her and she’d expressed as much to Rye when it was over.  He just took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, telling her the Capital would eat that stuff up and maybe now they’d leave them alone. 

 

So Prim had put it aside and not let the interview dominate her thoughts at all.  Since it wasn’t going to be mandatory viewing she didn’t even have to worry about watching it later.  And, when Madge and Delly had taken it upon themselves to help her get ready for the dance, she completely forgot about it altogether. 

 

By the way Rye’s eyes had lit up when he saw her wearing the soft, flowing gray dress Madge had loaned her-this time Prim wouldn’t let her get away with giving it to her, and she traded three blocks of goat cheese with a stubborn set of her chin- she figured it was all worth it.

 

They’d danced together all night, his large hands making her willowy form feel tiny, his smile just for her, his eyes never leaving hers.  Prim felt like a princess in one of those old fairy tales her mother used to tell.  The only way it could have been a better night was if it had ended with a kiss.  Well it had, of sorts.

 

When Rye had walked her to the door that night, she’d held her breath in anticipation.  But all he’d done was hold her hands loosely, pressing his warm lips to her forehead.  Then he’d given her a long, pregnant look full of things he didn’t say before walking away and leaving her vaguely frustrated and exhilarated all at the same time.

 

That had been three days ago and while she knew on some level that the interviews had been run, Prim didn’t think anything of it, or how the things she and Rye had said that day would affect their lives at all.

 

“Do you want to come in for a while, Madge? Delly?”  Prim paused on the bottom step of her porch, her blue eyes trained on her friends.

 

“No, I can’t.  My dad needs me to come to the Justice building today to lend him a hand. His secretary is out sick.”  Madge told her with a shake of her head.  Delly like wise couldn’t stay.

 

“My day to man the shop.  Where are Rye and Rory?”  The three girls had walked home by themselves that day, the boys conspicuously absent.

 

“Rory went to hang out with Luke Tanner, then I think he was going to meet up with Gale after his shift in the mines. Rye had to leave early because of Graham being under the weather.  I guess there’s something going around in town.”  Prim said with a shrug.  And if the bug were in town, it would make its way to the Seam soon enough. She and Ginger would be busy. She’d have to ask Rory to ask Gale to pick up some extra herbs and plants on Sunday.

 

Prim hadn’t seen much of Gale since the Games. Rory said it was because he felt guilty for not volunteering for Peeta so he could go into the games with Katniss. Prim thought that was just stupid. She’d told Rory as much, even though she knew he wouldn’t listen any better than Gale.

 

 

Gale still brought them game and anything else they needed from the forest from his trips on Sunday.  He never stayed longer than he had too, though. Prim kind of missed his steady presence in her life, but she was more than grateful that she had Rory.

 

“All right. Well, see you tomorrow.” Madge and Delly both waved then turned to make their way up the dirt road toward town.  Prim went up the rest of the stairs and let herself into the house, dropping her jacket and books by the door while calling out hello to her mother.

 

“Prim,” Something in her mother’s voice had Prim looking up sharply.  Confusion had her brows pulling together as she took in the tall, thin, red-headed form of Darius, the Peacekeeper that used to flirt with Katniss.  He looked nervous and more than a little ill.  She thought that was strange.  If he was sick, the Peacekeepers saw the Doctor in town.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Prim, Darius is here on business.  Official business.”  Ginger wrung her hands together in front of her, the worry in her eyes sadly sparking more life in her mother than Prim had seen in a long while.

 

“Oh, do you want me to leave?”  Prim didn’t want to.  She didn’t trust this Peacekeeper that was in her home, looking so uncomfortable.

 

“Actually, Prim, it’s you we’ve come to see.” Darius told her, his eyes darting to the fourth occupant in the room.  It was then that the other man in the room stepped forward, his dark suit and thin-lipped mouth making something inside of Prim want to shake with dread.

 

“What?”  Prim barely got the words out as fear skated cold down her spine.  “I don’t understand.”

 

“Primrose Everdeen, you will escort Peacekeeper Darius and myself to the Justice Building.”  He took a step forward, making to reach for her arm.  Prim shrunk away, her fear skyrocketing up to terror and she took a step back.

 

“What is this about?”  Ginger demanded, her pale blue eyes darting amongst the people in the room, panic putting an edge to her voice.

 

“Primrose Everdeen will accompany me to the Justice Building.  Now. Alone.”  The man directed his statement to Ginger with a steely eyed look that had her wringing her hands painfully in front of her.

 

“No.  She’s my daughter.  You can’t just take her and not tell me what’s going on.”  Ginger said with a shake of her blonde head.

 

“Mrs. Everdeen,” Darius went to her, holding a placating hand up.  “It’ll be all right. She's not being arrested or anything.”

 

“Then why take her to the Justice Building? She’s a good girl.  You have no right.”  Ginger pushed past Darius and started toward Prim who wanted to hide in her mother’s skirts like she did when she was little.  The man held up a hand, his stony face glaring over at Ginger.

 

“You may escort us to the Justice Building, but you will wait in the main hall until Primrose is allowed to come home. You will ask no questions.” Realizing that this was the best they were going to get, Ginger nodded and joined Prim by the door. The two blondes shared a look before retrieving their coats and quickly putting them on.  Then, without another word, the small entourage left the house.

 

Prim’s panic grew with each step.  She gripped her mothers hand so tight she was afraid she might pop the bones in Ginger’s hand, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t let go.  It took both too long and no time at all to get to the Justice Building.  She noticed a few people stopping and staring, but a look from their silent companion was enough to send the curious on their way.

 

They made their way up the steps and into the cool marble hall of the building.  Madge was walking down the hall, a stack of files in her hands.  When she saw them, her eyes widened comically and her head jerked back in the direction of the hall she’d come from.  When she looked back at the small group, confusion followed swiftly by comprehension dawned over Madge’s face. Next came fear, and that did nothing to soothe Prim’s already frazzled nerves.    


“You, sit there and wait.  Darius, keep Mrs. Everdeen company.”  The man said, none of them believing for a second that he cared whether or not Ginger got lonely.  Then he settled his dark brown eyes on Prim.  “You come with me.”  He took Prim by the arm, not in a rough grip, but enough to let her know that trying to not go with him wouldn’t be a good idea.  Prim let him lead her down the hall, her heart pounding in her chest as she moved passed Madge.  She stole a look back at her mother who was still wringing her hands, her teeth worrying her lip as she watched Prim move away.

 

When they got to the end of the hall, the man knocked once on the door then swiftly opened it and motioned Prim inside. She took a long steadying breath before stepping over the threshold into what looked like a conference room. It was when her eyes settled on the man sitting at the table that Prim felt her insides turn to ice.

 

“President Snow.”  She breathed, her movements halting as soon as she saw him. The man behind her pushed her further into the room and into a chair opposite the president.

 

“Thank you,” Snow said.  She shuddered at the sound of his voice.  He waited until the man left before donning what she supposed was meant to be a pleasant smile, but all it did was make her think of a reptile preparing to strike.  “Ah, young Miss Everdeen.  I can assume you are well?”

 

“Y-yes sir.”  She answered quickly, wincing when she stumbled over her words. She didn’t’ know why, but she had a feeling that showing any weakness in front of this man would do her no favors.  She cleared her throat and sat down in the chair he motioned to, her posture straight, her eyes never leaving the cold, dark depths of his.  “I’m not sure I understand why I’m here.”

 

“Of course, of course.”  There was an elaborate tea set in front of the President. He waved a hand over the spread and smiled at her.  Prim barely contained the shiver.  “Tea?”

 

“No, thank you.” 

 

“Now, Miss. Everdeen,” President Snow poured himself a cup of tea and took a delicate sip before continuing.  For anyone that didn’t know him, he might look slight and unimposing.  Grandfatherly. All it would take to change their mind would be to look into his eyes.  Cold and dark like a snake, they looked at the person in front of him like they were his prey, a plaything he could bat around until he grew bored. Then he’d strike. 

 

And unfortunately, it looked like Prim was the one in his sights.

 

“Do you fully understand what happened during your sisters games, Miss Everdeen?”

 

“I understand that she died.  Isn’t that enough?”  Prim answered back, smartly.  Anger sparked flames in her cheeks and the renewed pain of losing her sister closed her throat.  She wanted to throw the pretty teapot at his head when he chuckled. 

 

“Indeed.  However, that’s not all that happened.”  He picked up a cookie that Prim immediately recognized as one from Mellark’s bakery and took a small bite.  It was really almost a crumbs worth and she wondered vaguely why he’d even done it.  “Delicious.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mr. President.  I really don’t get what’s going on here.”  The old man chuckled again, then turned his attention to a small device sitting on the table next to him.  He flicked a switch on the side and suddenly an image of her sister and Peeta, entwined together in the aftermath of their lovemaking burst into view.  Prim felt embarrassed for looking at such an intimate moment, one that never should have happened in front of the cameras.  She looked down at her hands and waited for this man to set his trap, feeling somehow that this was another form of the Hunger Games.

 

“You see, Miss Everdeen, when your sister and Mr. Mellark fell in love in that arena, it sparked something.  Something very dangerous.  Something called Hope.”

 

She looked up at him then, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion.  She really wished he’d get to the point, because no matter what he seemed to think, she didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

 

“Do you know why hope is dangerous?” He asked, as if prompting her to be apart of this game he was playing. She shook her head, giving him only that much.  She wasn’t sure of the rules or if she was even playing correctly, but instinct told her to give him nothing, and silence was the best way to do that.  “Hope is dangerous because it makes people believe in change. And change can cause uprisings and uprisings get people killed.  Do you want to see people killed, Miss Everdeen?”

 

So asked the man that made it mandatory viewing for the country to watch as twenty-four children killed each other for sport. But instead of saying this, Prim shook her head emphatically ‘no’.

 

President Snow smiled, his fingers touching the device again.  This time an image of Prim and Rye from their interview sprang up and Prim felt a renewed stirring of panic ice up her spine. 

 

“Did you know that this image, of you and Mr. Mellark’s brother _also_ sparks hope?  Do you see how this,” he gave a vague wave of his hand towards the image before lacing his fingers together in front of him.  “Is almost as dangerous as what Katniss and Peeta did in the Arena.”

 

For the love of all she held dear she couldn’t. And she indicated so with a quick twist of her head.

 

“Your words, the words of Mr. Mellark, who is as well spoken as his brother I’m sorry to say, can make people think that the way things are isn’t the way they need to be.  Hope can topple the highest mountains Miss Everdeen.  It can also ruin lives.”  The dark depths of his eyes threatened to pull her in, suck out her very being and spit it out for his amusement. 

 

“We didn’t want to do that interview. We told her no.  She came to our school and the Principal made us. We can’t say no to the Capital.” Prim said quickly, desperate to defend her and Rye.

 

“Yes, we were apprised of that.  Unfortunately, Cressida was not under Capital orders to acquire that interview.”  The President paused; let his words sink in like a rock to her stomach.  Prim felt sick as she slowly realized what had happened.

 

“So, you know it wasn’t our fault.  We didn’t want to.”  Prim’s heart thundered in her chest and she wanted to desperately run away, to get away from this man and the thinly veiled threats he was issuing.

 

“I know, Miss Everdeen.  And I am terribly sorry that you and Rylan were pulled into something so much bigger than you can comprehend.  But now, I must control the situation.  Will you help me, Primrose?”

 

The sudden use of her first name had warning bells exploding in her head, but she really didn’t think she had a choice.

 

“Of course.”

 

“Ah, good girl.  Smart girl.”  Another flick of his finger had yet another image come up, this one of Rory and his friend Luke.  Tears sprang to her eyes as she watched the two boys kissing.  _Please, leave him alone_ was all she could think.  “I think, that young Mr. Hawthorne needs a new way to express his affections.  Perhaps with you.”

 

_Wait, what?_

 

“I…” Prim was at a loss. She and Rory…could never happen.

 

“I think it wise that you and Mr. Mellark sever this relationship that blossomed in the light of your siblings exit from the arena.” _Exit??_ He was calling their deaths an _exit?_   Like they walked out of there on their own instead of in the claw of a hovercraft. Like they didn’t come home in pine boxes for their families to bury.  Fury was an emotion that Prim didn’t deal with often.  She had it in spades now.  She grasped at it, used it to tether her to the conversation and force away the pain that had blossomed when he’d said she needed to sever her relationship with Rye.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, Miss Everdeen.  Rebellion is a messy business and I will do whatever it takes to snuff it out.”  He leveled those snake eyes on her and she knew in that moment, that her life, Rye’s life even Rory’s were worthless to this man.  He was leaving it up to her to protect those she loved.  Even if it meant giving up Rye.

 

Prim found she couldn’t say the words out loud. She couldn’t.  She nodded, hard and fast, tears gathering in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.  She was Katniss Everdeen’s sister and Sebastian Everdeen’s daughter. She would not let this man take her dignity from her.

 

“Ah, I’m glad we understand each other, Miss Everdeen. And you might want to remind young Mr. Hawthorne, both of them, that venturing out beyond the fence is against the law.”  He stood then and moved around the desk, leaving the image of Rory and Luke up for her to see. “The Reaping is coming up soon. A Quarter Quell as well. May the odds be ever in your favor.”

 

Prim sucked in an involuntary breath and refused to look at him as he left the room.  It wasn’t until after she heard the door snick closed that she let the tears fall, her misery crumpling her forward over the desk.

 

She didn’t know how long she sat like that. She must have dozed off, since she was jolted when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.  Prim looked up to see Madge looking at her, her aqua colored eyes concerned.

 

“Come on, Prim.  Your mother is worried sick.”  Prim nodded and pushed herself up onto watery knees.  Her eyes landed again on the image in front of her. In an uncharacteristic fit, she seized the viewing device and flung it hard against the wall.  She felt only a grim satisfaction that it shattered into several pieces.  “Prim!”

 

“I need to see Rye.  I need to tell him…” she couldn’t think what she needed to tell him, it hurt too much.  Not to mention she had to tell Rory he couldn’t see Luke anymore.  Fresh tears burned hot down her cheeks and she clutched desperately at Madge.  “I need to see Rye.” She said again, her eyes begging Madge.

 

“I’ll get him.”

 

“Somewhere safe.”  Prim said, hoping Madge caught her meaning.  She did.

 

“Ok.  Let’s get you to my house.  Bonnie will make you some tea and we’ll get your mother settled down.  Ok?”

 

Prim nodded, gratefully sagging against Madge as the older girl led her from the room.

 

* * *

 

“Prim?”  Rye walked into the basement in Madge’s house, his eyes full of  confusion.  Madge had been sitting with Prim as they waited for him to come.  Bonnie had been sent to the bakery for a loaf of bread they didn’t need to get him here.  She stood now, sorrow written on her pretty face, making Rye’s nerves spike. 

 

“I’ll be upstairs.” She said quietly, rubbing a thumb across Prim’s cheek.  She turned to leave then, placing her hand gently on Rye’s arm and squeezing.  Silence filled the air between them as they waited for Madge to leave.

 

“What’s wrong, Prim?  Why do we have to meet here?”  Rye asked gently, moving to sit next to her.  There was an old couch and some other sheet covered furniture in the cavernous space.  When he’d settled, Prim threw herself against him.  His arms closed easily around her, immediately giving her the illusion of safety.  “Talk to me, beautiful.”

 

“Snow came to see me today.”  Prim pulled back, her eyes shiny with tears and sadness. The story spilled from her, words jumbling together and making it hard for him to follow.  But he got the idea.  Rage like none he’d ever felt built in him with every syllable that dropped from her lips.  Then it shattered, just as his heart did when she says the last.  “He says I have to be with Rory.  Or else.”

 

“Or else what?”  Rye should have known.  The Mellark’s were never allowed to keep the Everdeen women.  He sounded so tired, so defeated.  Prim ached to touch him, but she was so afraid.

 

“He didn’t get specific.  But I think it’s not to far a stretch to say that we’re all in danger.  Our families, the Hawthorne’s.  Maybe all of our friends.”  Prim stood then, wringing her hands in front of her as the enormity of their situation dawned on her.

 

Rye shook his head in disgust.  Of course they were all in danger.  Somehow they’d all landed on the Presidents radar. That was never a good place to be. “Well, I guess that’s it then.”

 

“No.”  Prim sat down beside him again, her hand reaching out to touch his arm. She felt the muscles jump under her slender fingers.  “No.  Rory,” she sighed.  She was about to reveal her best friends secret.  “Rory doesn’t like _any_ girl like that.”  Rye looked confused.  Then his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in a silent ‘oh’ as realization dawned on him.  “And even if he did, I wouldn't want to be with him.”

 

“Prim,” Rye warned, his eyes begging her not to make this harder.  If she said the words, there age difference be damned, he wouldn’t be able to let her go.

 

“No, Rye.  If I don’t say this, I’m afraid that what I feel for you is so big, so scary…It feels like I’m scared and so damn happy to see you.  My words get all jumbled up and it just makes me feel…ugh.” She wanted to stomp her feet in frustration, but she was afraid if she did he’d always see her as a kid. And she certainly didn’t feel like a kid.  _Just say it._ “I love you, Rye.”

 

“Shit, Primrose.”  Whatever she expected him to say, that wasn’t it.  Prim deflated in front of him, her slender shoulders sagging as if the weight of the whole world had just landed on them.

 

“I’m so stupid,” she mumbled, surging up from the couch once more.

 

“Prim,” Rye started, taking a step forward.  She held up both hands and took a step backward.

 

“No, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t burden you with my silly feelings.  You’ve only been nice to me, I shouldn’t expect more, and I know I’m young…”

 

“Primrose!” he said, starting towards her again, ignoring her upraised hands.

 

“No, Rye. I understand,”

 

“Dammit, Primrose Everdeen.  Shut _up_.” Rye seized her by the shoulders. He almost laughed at the way her mouth dropped open in shock then snapped closed in indignation. But the last thing he wanted to do in this instant was laugh.  “You _don’t_ understand.  You have no fucking clue.”  His hands gentled on her shoulders, his fingers gentlykneading her tense muscles

 

“What don’t I understand?” she asked, her voice a bare whisper in the quiet of the room.

 

He fought with himself for exactly thirty seconds.  In that time he took in the cornflower blue of her eyes that were watching him expectantly.  Then her pink lips parted, her breath coming in tiny bursts, causing her breasts to heave. When her tongue darted out to moisten her lips he was lost.  Another Mellark undone by an Everdeen.

 

When he slanted his mouth across hers, he briefly wondered if this was how Peeta had felt kissing Katniss or how his father had felt kissing Mrs. Everdeen. It felt like the world stopped existing and it was just the two of them.  He pulled her bottom lip between his and sucked on it gently, making her gasp. The sound enflamed him, but somehow he managed to remind himself that she was only fifteen and this was likely her first kiss.

 

He suddenly hated that it wasn’t his, because kissing Primrose was perfect.

When he pulled back, he smirked as her eyes fluttered open, her blue orbs hazy and a soft smile on her swollen lips.  He forced himself not to go in for another, hungrier kiss.  He reached up and brushed her cheek with his thumb, his touch soft and tender against her skin. 

 

“Understand now?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion.  She nodded numbly, her teeth capturing the lip he’d just savored between his.  Rye groaned and closed his eyes, gathering his resolve.  Because, as he just realized, he would be able to let her go if it kept her safe.

 

“Good bye, Prim.”

 

Confusion chased the arousal in her gaze away as he released her.

 

“Rye?” she questioned, shaking her head in denial.  She reached a hand towards him but didn’t move from her spot.  He smiled a sad, soft smile then turned away. He didn’t look back as he walked out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N-Oh my god, it’s been like two months. I suck, I know. But I did that fandom 4LLS fic, and then I did one for PIP. So I’ve been writing. Just not this. Or anything of my other fics. So I’m sorry. Anyway, that scene in the basement is actually my fave scene that I’ve written so far. Things are going to start to get very tense from here. I hope you’re all still there. Anyway, review, review, review. I have the next chapter written, I just have to type it, so it shouldn’t take as long. I didn’t have the Snow scene written yet which is why this took forever. Were you surprised for the Rory reveal? And I left a little breadcrumb for things to come in there. Let’s see if you spot it. Thanks to my beta Scoutchick104 for making this legible. Peace. Jypz/Lisa


	7. Consequences

# Chapter Six

## Consequences

 

It wound up being harder than Rye had thought to stay away from her.  Especially now that he knew how sweet she tasted.  He missed her visits to the bakery.  He missed walking to and from school.  He missed _her._ He felt like a weight had pressed itself against his heart and lungs, inhibiting the ability of both to work properly.

 

Rye heard the people talking as Prim was seen with Rory more and more, holding hands, walking arm in arm.  Rory had taken to bussing her temple with gentle kisses. Or so he’d heard.  He tried like hell not to see it for himself. He felt his mother’s eyes on him when Prim’s name would come up.  He’d answer the query with a noncommittal noise, but he would never meet his mother’s eyes.  He was afraid of what he’d see.  Just because she was trying harder, didn’t mean that her general attitude for people in the Seam would change, and he didn’t want to see her smirking at his expense.

 

So he missed the way her eyes were actually clouded with concern and no little sympathy as he struggled to make conversation.

 

Prim would sometimes come to the window of the bakery like she did when she was younger.  But he knew she wasn’t there to look at the cakes.  He wouldn’t look at her as she stood there, the weight of her stare crushing his heart even further.  He wouldn’t look up until Rory pulled her away.

 

Rye spent his nights in the shower, reliving their kiss, his brain taking it further, his body hardening painfully. He felt guilty as he stroked himself to release, her name a whisper in his head.  She was so young and innocent.  And he wasn’t.

 

He almost couldn’t wait for school to be over. This was his last year, his last Reaping.  Then he could throw himself into working in the bakery. She’d forget about him, move on. Snow would lose interest in them and they could live their lives out of his watchful eye.

           

The thought of Prim marrying anyone else, living in the Seam and raising another man’s children made him sick.

 

Delly came by more often.  Which fueled talk that they were now a couple.  Neither encourage or discouraged it, but the possibility of them winding up together was a real one. Especially since Rye would have to leave the bakery once Graham and his girlfriend were married. Unless Graham decided to keep him on for a while. Which Rye was going to pursue.

 

But he knew Delly didn’t want to be with him anymore than he wanted to be with her.  They knew they’d have little option if their lives continued on the course they were on. He supposed he could consider Madge as well. He couldn’t do much better than the Mayor’s daughter.  But again, Rye was not where her heart was looking either.

 

He knew the town would be shocked to know that the three town kids, all from affluent family’s in the Merchant quarter, all let their hearts lead them to the Seam.  But Delly and Madge’s situations weren’t quite as dangerous as Rye’s.

 

Pain had become his constant companion. His temper, always quick but mellowed since his brother’s Games, became hair trigger.  He got to the point where Madeline wouldn’t let him in the front of the store.  He was grateful for that, since he didn’t want to hear the gossip anymore, the insinuations.

 

Those weeks were Hell for Rye. The pain, the anguish, the talk.  He’d wanted to throw himself on the fence surrounding the district just to ease his tortured thoughts. But all of that came to a head during the Harvest Festival. 

 

The Festival was the first stop on the Victory tour for the Victor of the Hunger Games.  The town was transformed for that one night and not one person in the district would go hungry that night.  It was nice to see the changes, even brief and to see the starving children of the Seam smiling and laughing in a way they couldn’t any other time of the year, even during the winter holidays. 

           

But knowing that Cato, the man that killed Prim’s sister and his brother, was going to be in District Twelve, expounding how honored he was to have murdered Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark all the while smirking and looking down his nose at the outer District hicks made Rye sick.

 

Rye watched Prim dancing with Rory from across the reception.  Or more like sagging against Rory as he maneuvered them into circles.  She looked so sad, so exhausted, his battered heart hurt even more seeing the mirror image of his devastation in her beautiful face.

 

He’d vowed to stay away from her, to keep them all safe. But when Rory moved away to get her punch, leaving her alone in the shadows, he watched Cato come up to her.  Before he realized what he was doing, Rye stalked across the room, only stopping when he felt a firm grip on his arm.

 

Rye turned his head and glared at the surprisingly sober looking Haymitch Abernathy.

 

“Can I help you?” 

 

“I think I’m helping you. You’re already smack in the middle of his radar.  Don’t make it worse.”  He didn’t need to mention Snow’s name to get his point across.

           

Rye turned to look as whatever Cato said had Prim bursting into tears and fleeing the room. Without another look at the drunk Victor, Rye shook his hand off and followed her.

 

“God dammit,” he heard Haymitch mutter, but he didn’t pursue Rye.  The blond glared daggers at Cato, who wasn’t even looking at him, but it made him feel better. Than he met the worried gaze of Rory and he hesitated.  That's who should have been going after Prim.  Not Rye.  He slowed, preparing to stop when Rory shook his head and pointed in the direction Prim left.

 

Rye didn’t need another invitation.

 

He found her outside, leaning against the side of the building, crying softly.

 

“I’m ok, Rory.  I’ll be back inside in a minute.”  She sounded anything but ok.

 

“Prim.”

 

She spun around, her wide eyes wet with tears.

 

“Rye,” she breathed, rushing into the safety of his arms.  She buried her face in his shoulder, her breath hot on his neck.  She felt so right pressed against him, her willowy body fitting perfectly against the hard length of his form.

 

 _How am I supposed to stay away?_ He thought in defeat.

 

“What did he say to you?”  Rye growled, fully prepared to go throttle the Victor. He’d see how tough Cato was without his sword.

 

“He said he was sorry.”  Prim said her voice muffled by his shirt.

 

“What?”  Rye pulled back in shock.  She gave him a shaky smile and nodded.  He felt the ends of her hair dance against his fingers with her movement.  It felt like silk against his skin.

 

“He looked so sad.  His eyes…God, Rye.  His eyes.  They were so hollow.”

 

Rye didn’t want to feel sorry for the Victor. He was the one that lived. Twenty-three other people didn’t. But he found himself wondering, what all that death could do to a person.  Even someone from a Career district, where volunteering for the Games was considered an honor.

 

“Are you ok?”  Rye asked, pulling her back to look in her eyes.  As soon as their blue gazes locked, his midnight to her sea, the air seemed to thicken around them.  Rye’s eyes dropped to her mouth to see her pearly teeth worrying the plump bottom lip.

 

She nodded, answering his forgotten question. All he could think of was their kiss, the sweet taste of her mouth.  He wondered, with no guilt, what her skin would taste like.  How the weight of her breasts would feel in his hands. How her eyes would cloud over when he took her.

 

Rye didn’t realize he was leaning into her until her head tilted up, her eye lashes fluttering as her eyes drifted closed in anticipation.

 

“Rye, Prim?”  They jerked apart, Rye rearing on Rory with a hot glare.  The younger man held his hands up, apologetic but firm.

 

“Haymitch sent me out here.  People are starting to notice you’re gone.”

 

Rye cursed violently, not risking looking back at Prim as he stalked back into the Justice building.  He made a straight line to the food table and snatched a glass of cider and downed it in three long swallows.  He wished it were something harder, something that burned.

 

“Excuse me?”  The voice had Rye’s body going rigid in disbelief.  He turned slowly, giving the speaker plenty of time to reconsider. Cato apparently didn’t feel any of the self-preservation that got him out of the arena.  He stared at the Victor, the one that had killed his brother and Prim’s sister.  The boy stood before him, looking tired and hollow, like he had a right.  Cato as breathing, Peeta was not.  Whatever Cato was looking for, he wouldn’t find in Rye Mellark.

 

“I just wanted to say,”

 

Rye’s fist flew before Cato even had a chance to realize he was moving.  Shock registered across the young man’s face, but he just stood as Rye cocked back again and let loose all the anger and grief out on the Victor.  Screams, camera flashes and curses filled the air around him. But the only thing Rye was aware of was the pain in his knuckles and the blood covering Cato’s face. It didn’t register that the other man wasn’t fighting back.

 

Rye howled in rage when he felt hands grabbing at him. He started to punch blind, fighting the people restraining him.  He felt his feet drag as he was hauled backwards, out of the banquet hall and down a flight of steps.

 

“Calm down, Rye!”  He recognized his brother Graham’s voice.  Rye yanked his arms out of the hands restraining him and turned to face Graham and surprisingly Gale Hawthorne.  Haymitch Abernathy came through the door followed by Rye’s mother.

 

“Leave me alone,” he growled, tensing to attack again.

 

“Rylan Mellark, stop this instant.  This isn’t going to bring him back.”  Madeline marched right up to him and stared him down, despite being a head shorter.  He felt himself deflate under her gaze.

 

“You never believe he’d come back anyway, mom.” He said sounding exhausted. Madeline flinched away, shame clouding her face as his words hit her like a slap. He thought he saw her chin tremble before she turned on her heel and left the room.

 

“Damn it, Rye.”  Graham shook his head, his own tiredness and grief making him look years older than twenty-one.  He looked at Rye with no little disgust before following his mother out of the room. Gale looked at Rye for a long minute, then after a quick glance at Haymitch, he left as well.

 

“What the hell is wrong with you?  Are you looking to get killed?”

 

“What do you care, old man?” shame was starting to cut through his rage.  He glared at the District Twelve mentor and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

 

“Don’t you get it?  You just attacked a _Victor_ at his own party. It don’t matter he didn’t defend himself.  You _touched_ Capital property.  You could bring their wrath on _all_ of us.  Not to mention you can’t stay away from that girl.”  Haymitch let out a disgusted snort.  “Mellark boys and Everdeen girls.  Never ends well, does it?”

 

“Go to hell you fucking drunk.”

 

Haymitch gave Rye a long appraising look, a dark brow arched even as his eyes were narrowed.  “You ain’t nothing like Peeta, are you?”

 

“You shut up.”  Rye started toward Haymitch, his eyes burning with tears. His words were thrust through clenched teeth.  “You don’t say his name.  You didn’t…” Rye’s voice caught and he stumbled.  “You didn’t bring him home.”  He sounded pathetic to himself but he didn’t care.

 

Haymitch looked stricken at what Rye said. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, then scowled.  He looked like he wanted to say something but was conflicted.  Finally, he sighed and took a long pull from the flask he fished out of his pocket.

 

“You’re right.”  Haymitch agreed and Rye saw guilt twist the older man’s features. “Be prepared boy.  All hell’s about to break loose.  And when it does, just remember who the real enemy is.” Haymitch considered Rye for another long moment, making sure his words sunk in before leaving the younger man alone to his misery.

 

~**~

 

Rory held tight to Prim as she sobbed against his chest.  The Peacekeepers had sent everybody home after Rye attacked Cato and nobody wanted to argue with the guns waved in their direction.

 

He knew that Prim was worried about Rye. The fact that he wasn’t taken into custody or killed on the spot was surprising. He’d been allowed to leave the building with his father.  No one had ever attacked a Victor before, but no one felt pride that Rye had done it and lived.

 

Rory was afraid too.  And royally pissed off at his friend.  Rye hadn’t thought about the rest of them when he lost control. Now all of them could be in danger, probably were since no action had been taken against the baker’s son.  Rye wasn’t the only one that had had to let go of someone they loved. Luke hadn’t taken it well when Rory tried to explain.  Rory hadn’t taken in well when Prim had tried to explain it to him. Why did Rye have to be so selfish?

 

“You must hate me.”  Prim said once her sobs quieted to sniffles.

 

“Why would you think that?”  Rory asked, tilting her face up to meet her eyes. He wouldn’t, not for the first time, wonder what might have happened between he and Prim if hadn’t been the way he was. He’d obsessed over it when he first realized his attraction to other boys.  He’d tried to make himself think about Prim that way.  And then he had met Luke and that had been that.

 

His family didn’t know.  Although he had a feeling his mother suspected.

 

“For getting you involved in all this.”

 

“It’s not your fault, Prim.”  He reached up and brushed the tears off her face, looking into those sea blue eyes and wishing he felt something.  Then he reminded himself that she didn’t feel for him and dismissed his wishes.  They wouldn’t do any good anyhow.

 

“Yes it is.  If we hadn’t given that interview.”

 

“Neither of you knew what was going happen. What _was_ happening. And that’s not what’s scaring me.”

 

“I know.”  Prim looked up at him, miserable.  She’d stayed out of town the last few days, afraid of what might happen if she even set foot in the square.  Obviously, no one in the District believed that she and Rory were together anymore. Rye’s and Prim’s absence from the reception had been noted, the fact that they both came in from outside seconds apart and Rye’s attack were enough to dispel the rumors of hers and Rory’s romance. “It’s been too quiet.”

 

Rory nodded in agreement, apprehension curling like a live thing in his chest.  He wanted to take her and everyone else he loved and disappear into the woods. If the number of people he’d want to save wasn’t so large, he might have broached the subject with Gale. But his brother, who was only vaguely aware of what his brother was going through, wouldn’t have wanted to run. He’d want to stay and fight. Rory just wanted to live.

 

Rory didn’t have anything to say to Prim. No comfort he could give her since his fears were the same as hers.  He knew from Delly that the fears in town were the same as well.  There was nothing to do now but wait, to see what punishment Snow decided was just for the attacking Cato, for the blonde pair being unable to stay away from each other and for Prim and Rory being unable to play their parts.

 

Everyday was like walking on eggshells for the small group of teens.  Since the festival, Rye, Delly and Madge had kept to themselves, only mingling with Prim and Rory when Rye wasn’t around.   The girls felt pulled in two directions, disloyal to both.  Rye was scared what he did would ruin them all, but Madge and Delly wouldn’t let him retreat completely. They were his only link to Prim and he selfishly held onto them.

 

The changes to the District started almost immediately. Cray, the head Peacekeeper that had been in charge of Twelve for as long as any of them could remember disappeared. There was construction in the square as a new whipping post and stocks were constructed.

 

Rye watched the changes with Delly, a sense of dread in his stomach.  Prim and Rory avoided town as much as possible.  Gale still traded as much as he could because suddenly the possibility of the fence going on permanently was a real one.  Madge tried to get as much information as she could from her father, but he had nothing to tell her.  The Capital was not sharing with him.

 

Fear settled over the District, more thick and choking than the coal dust that permeated everything.  People hurried on the streets, no one wanting to be out in the open for long.  Everyone spoke in whisper and everyone sent accusatory looks at Rye.

 

Even with all the horrible changes, there was still a sense that something worse was coming.

 

And then one day, it did.

 

The smell of smoke was thick and heavy in the air when Prim awakened that day.  She shared a panicked look with her mother as they both hurried to dress and rush outside.  People ran too and fro, their voices raised in fear and panic, the words unintelligible.

 

Prim saw Greasy Sae, the woman from the Hob she sometimes traded her goat cheese with and called out to her.  The old woman paused long enough in her struggle through the snow that had fallen the night before for Prim to catch up, and then she hurried along.

 

“What’s happening?”  Prim gasped trying to keep up.  Sae was surprisingly quick for her age.

 

“The Hob’s burning.  New Head Peacekeeper ordered it.”  Sae said quickly.  She didn’t look back when Prim stopped, shock and horror on her face.

 

The hob was burning.  The Capital had effectively ended a lot of people’s livelihood. People like Sae.  And Gale.

 

Print pivoted and started back towards her house. She rushed forward when she saw Gale, his tall lean form a beacon above the heads of the other Seam folk.

 

“Gale! The Hob!”  Was all she managed before he seized her shoulders, his seam grey eyes boring into hers.

 

“Stay out of town today, Prim.”  His voice was rough, his grip almost painful against the bones of her shoulders.  He looked afraid, something Prim wasn’t used to from the tall Hunter.

 

“Why?”  She saw a muscle in his jaw hitch, but he would say more.  “Gale, why?”  When he wouldn’t say any more, Prim yanked out of his grasp and started to run toward town.

 

“PRIMROSE!”  Gale bellowed, but she didn’t look back.  Terror clawed at her with each slap of her feet against the cracked pavement.  She hadn’t seen Rye since the Harvest Festival.  Something told her that Gale’s insistence that she stay out of town had something to do with Rye and she ran harder.

 

It didn’t take long once she got out of the chaos of the Seam for the ominous silence of town to settle around her. Silent except for the _snap whistle_ followed by a human grunt of pain to reach Prim’s ears. She ran straight for the center of town where she saw a huge crowd clustered in front of the Justice building. Delly and Rory met her at the edge of the crowd.

 

“Prim, you don’t want to see this.” Delly started, hot tears pooling in her pale blue eyes.  Prim’s own tears rose in response and she once again yanked her arm out of a restraining grip.

 

“Rye!”  Prim gasped, starting to turn away only to be stopped by Rory.  Her breath came out if frantic puffs of steam as the cold snapped around her.  She didn’t feel it, her run and worry actually making her sweat.

 

“It’s not Rye.”  Rory told her, leading her to a better place to see.  Delly glared at the young man but Rory just ignored her. Prim felt her heart race when the whipping post came into view, three fat squirrels nailed above the hands tethered to the post.  Her breath hitched and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins as she took in the bloody and bruised man that had long since passed out.

 

“Mr. Mellark.”

 

“NO!”

 

Prim watched in horror as Rye’s strong, broad form burst through the crowd and rushed towards his father.  She watched as the whip cracked through the air towards the blond men, the tip catching Rye’s upraised arm instead of Bram’s destroyed back.

 

“Rye!”  Prim pushed forward, easily parting the crowd of stunned townspeople. Rory grabbed her just as another form stepped from the crowd and maneuvered in front of the bakers.

 

Haymitch Abernathy raised his hands in supplication, a benign smile on his face as his surprisingly sharp eyes took in the situation.  The Head Peacekeeper, a short, stout man with a grey crew cut and cold hard blue eyes stared at the drunken Victor like he was something disgusting.

 

“Move, Victor.”  He spat in a harsh growl.

 

“You don’t want to hurt that boy, Thread.”   Haymitch said in in a calm voice. “And I think you’ve made your point with the baker.  Possession of poached goods is illegal.  I don’t think you’ll have anymore problems with that.”

 

“If you don’t move you’ll feel the bite of my whip, too.”  Thread told him, raising his whip for emphasis.  Haymitch took a step back but stood his ground.  He opened his mouth to speak, but one of the other peacekeepers beat him to it.

 

“I believe the punishment for poaching has been reached sir.”  Purnia, a female Peacekeeper that had been in twelve for years said.  This, Thread listened to.  “Forty lashes are the usual.”

 

Thread dropped the hand holding the whip; his face looking as if he’d tasted something bad.   Prim watched in horror as he dragged the whip through his fingers, wiping the thick, sticky blood away.  He then curled the weapon around his arm before directing his cold stare to the crowd. Prim shrank back into Rory when it landed on her, the look in them sending ice through her veins.

 

“Let this stand as a warning to every citizen in this district.  You’ve been allowed too much freedom.  That ends today.”

 

Then, with one last look of disgust to the gathered crowd, Thread stalked away.  Prim barely noticed the remaining Peacekeepers pick up Darius, the redheaded Peacekeeper that had escorted her to President Snow all those weeks ago. They dragged him from the spot where he’d been laying unconscious, just out of her sight until then.

 

“Rye,” she cried, dropping to her knees when she reached him.  Rye had tears streaking down his face and his eyes were so full of shame and anguish when they met hers, she nearly wept from it.

 

“Go warn your mother, girl.  Boy, get the baker’s wife.”  Haymitch directed Prim and Rory.  She almost protested, but Delly drug her to her feet and the pair streaked off to the Seam.

 

“Prim, what’s happening?” Ginger demanded as soon as she saw the girls.  She was standing on their front porch, watching as the world as she knew it crumpled around her.

 

Prim found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t force the horror out as she collapsed into her mother’s arms.  It was Delly, who in stilted, tear soaked words relayed what had happened.  Prim knew the indulgence of her mother’s comfort was over when Gingers gripped her shoulders and looked at her with clear blue eyes.

 

“Lets get ready. Get the herbs we need. Delly, there’s a large bowl in the kitchen, fill it with snow.  I’ll get the bandages, needle and thread.  Clear the table.  Prim.  Primrose!”  Ginger said sharply when the girl's lip quivered.  “I need your help.  Stay with me.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”  Prim steeled herself, forcing down the emotion threatening to choke her and nodded.

 

“Good girl.  We have to hurry.”

 

Working quickly they had just about everything together when their door burst open.  Delly hurried in, holding the bowl of snow followed by Mr. Mellark who was carried in on a board by Rye, Graham, Rory and Gale.  Prim was surprised to see him, and then brushed it off. He must have followed her to town. Haymitch was practically carrying Madeline Mellark in behind them.

 

“Put him on the table.”

 

Prim had to swallow the bile crawling up her throat at the sight of the older man’s back.  “Oh, no.”  She gasped, desperately trying to hold the tears back.

 

“Prim, can you handle this?”  Ginger had never had cause to worry about the girl before. But it had never been so personal before either.  Prim stole a quick glance at Rye, who was staring at his father and dragging both his hands through his hair, the bloody welt on his arm forgotten.  His face was a study of terror.  The sight of him calmed her.  He needed her to be ok, to help her mother.  She nodded and swallowed back her fear and moved toward Mr. Mellark.

 

Madeline stepped forward, dropping into the chair Rory set by her husband’s head.  She reached out and touched a gentle hand to Bram’s forehead, tears dripping down her cheeks.

 

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped.  “I’m so, so sorry.”  Ginger and Prim rushed around, trying to stop the bleeding.  Bram’s breath was shallow, shudders racking through his unconscious form.  A knock on the door surprised all of them, especially when Gale pulled it open to reveal Madge.  She rushed in and thrust a pouch at Ginger.

 

“Morphling.”  She rasped, out of breath.  She must have run all the way from her house.

 

Ginger took and unrolled the pouch. Inside were several small vials and a needle.  With nimble fingers, Ginger filled the syringe and plunged it into Bram’s back.

 

Almost immediately the man calmed.  Prim and Ginger wasted no time.

 

“Can you save him?”  Madeline asked, her tear washed blue eyes finding Ginger’s. Ginger sighed and continued her ministrations, trying to piece Bram’s skin back together.

 

“I won’t lie, Madeline.  He’s lost a lot of blood.  There’s not a lot of skin to put back together and his age…” Ginger floundered for the right words at a loss of how to proceed. Bram had been a friend, almost her husband if not for Sebastian Everdeen.  She knew that Madeline resented her for Bram loving her first.  That resentment had colored her life in unhappiness. But Ginger did know that Madeline loved Bram.

 

“Mom,” Prim caught her mother’s attention. The blood wouldn’t stop, a fever had set in.  His breathing was getting more shallow and slower with each second.  Until, with one shuddering gasp, it stopped all together.

 

It seemed that everyone in the room stopped breathing the second Bram Mellark did.  Prim's hands covered her mouth, heedless of the blood staining them. Ginger’s eyes drifted closed in sorrow and grief.

 

“NO!”  Madeline Mellark's wail of anguish pierced through Prim like one of Gale’s arrows. The older woman buried her face against her husband’s neck and sobbed, deep guttural moans of pain. Ginger reached for her, gripping the other woman’s hand in a sign of solidarity.  Madeline clung to her perceived enemy, the pair bonded in their grief.

 

“Dad?”  Rye sounded so small, so young.  He stepped around Prim to sink to his knees by the table.  Prim reached for him, but Rory pulled her back. Graham moved to join his family, his handsome face stricken with grief.

 

Ginger squeezed Madeline’s fingers one last time, then stepped around the table.  She ushered the weeping Delly and silently crying Madge out of the room and pulled the curtain separating the kitchen from the living room closed.

 

Prim wanted to rip it down, to go to Rye and comfort him but Ginger placed her hands on Prim’s shoulders, keeping her in place.

 

“Give them some privacy.”  She said softly.  Rory wrapped his arms around her from behind, his tears hot against her neck.

 

“Mama,” Prim gasped, her voice tiny and scared, her fingers clutching desperately at Rory’s.  Tears streaked down Gingers face as she enveloped the two teens in her arms. Madge and Delly held each other close.

 

Nobody noticed when Haymitch and Gale let themselves out.

**Author's Note:**

> In order for this to work I had to adjust Prim’s age up two years. She’s fourteen when she’s reaped. Katniss and Peeta are the same age. Since all we know about Peeta’s brothers from canon is that there is one in Reaping age, I’m making Rye a year older than Peeta. That will make them fifteen and eighteen respectively when the Quell comes around. review, review, review! Jypz/Lisa


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